WitFit Prompts October 2011
by deb24601
Summary: Short stories based on the daily prompts from Fictionista Workshop. Mostly Twilight, Edward x Bella.
1. WitFit Oct 3 Puddle  1929

WitFit for October 3

Prompt: Puddle

Dialogue flex: "I'll take two."

I don't own Twilight. This one fits in with 1929, chapter 4. Oh, and it's Aunt Rose's POV, very fun to write. This is unbeta'd and was written very quickly (that's the point of WitFit, to write more "off the cuff") Please be gentle. ;)

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><p>"Rose!"<p>

The front door closed with a soft thud. My niece appeared in the parlour a moment later, face flushed and brown eyes sparkling with excitement.

"Rose, come here. You have to see him. He followed me. Again."

Isabella shed her coat and tossed it carelessly across the nearest chair. She threw her hat on top before crossing the parlour to the large bay window. She pulled the curtain slightly aside to peek out.

"Oh! He's still there. Rose, really. Come see." Isabella was whispering as if the man would hear her. My old bones and I stayed put in my favourite chair.

"I'm not going to be able to see him that far away anyway." This had been going on for days. My niece had moved here from her native New York less than a week ago, leaving behind disapproving parents and quite possibly a disappointed fiancé. I hadn't been able to get a straight answer out of her on that one. "Did he try to talk to you again?" I asked. I'd expected a fair amount of excitement having such a young person in the house and Isabella was delivering. She was a whirlwind of activity even before this strange young man had spotted her – and her, him. My goodness, the carrying on since then.

"No, he hasn't talked to me since that first time." She peered out into the early evening again. "Well, nevermind. There he goes." Isabella said. The wistful note in her voice worried me. Time for me to speak up.

"Isabella, why all this fuss? I thought you came here because you didn't want to get caught in that web of men and marriage. You declared your independence my dear, right on my front porch. You said, and I quote, that you'd 'rather be nun than get trapped forever as a slave to house and babies'."

Her shoulders dropped and she sighed. She crossed the room slowly and sat in the wingback chair opposite mine. "I know you're right. I don't know what I'm thinking. That's just it, Rose, I don't think when I see him. I just know that I have to." She slumped to the side and closed her eyes. "Oh, what is wrong with me?" she wailed.

Mary came in silently, pushing the tea trolley ahead of her. She raised an eye brow at me in question; should she serve it out? I shook my head and she left just as silently. I cleared my throat.

"Yes, Rose?" Isabella pulled herself together and blinked at the tea tray. She poured out the first cup and put it back on the tray. I waited patiently. "He's just so handsome!" she blurted out. I looked at her over the tops of my specs and she blushed but apparently the dam had burst.

"He's tall, Rose, so very tall and his shoulders, well I've only seen him in his overcoat but he's broad across the shoulders." Isabella gestured with her hands. "Oh and the way he walks... it's not a saunter, no not that. Not a strut per se either. Oh I don't know how to describe it but I do know I'm going to walk full on into a lamppost one of these days trying to watch him over my shoulder!" Here she paused for breath and her expression, if possible, became dreamier. I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing.

Isabella added milk to the tea. I didn't take milk but decided not to interrupt her little performance. "I looked at his eyes again today, right as I walked by, before he got up to follow me. He always waits until I cross the street, see, before he gets up. They aren't the grassy green I originally thought, his eyes, I mean, they're a little darker. I haven't seen his hair yet, he's always wearing a hat." She frowned at that.

I began to want my tea and wondered just how long Isabella could go on about this man. She took up the sugar tongs but stopped mid-motion, holding the tongs in the air as yet another thought distracted her.

"His face, Rose. My God, his face. Why, you could cut glass on his jaw line! I've never seen a man so handsome, not even close." Her gaze was far away and I felt a qualm. Please let this be a kind man. Please let this man be worthy of my Isabella. "He looks like an angel." I needed to break her from her trance.

"What about all your plans Isabella? Let me play Devil's advocate here: are you telling me you took one look at his strong jaw line and lost your marbles? Because that's what it sounds like to me." My tone was harsher than I intended and she bristled as she put the tongs down. Apparently I'd hit a nerve. And I wasn't getting my tea anytime soon.

Her face flashed from annoyance to wonderment as she tried to explain.

"It's not just how he looks Rose – do you really think me so shallow?" I shook my head. Of course I didn't. "I suppose it's simply easier to talk about how he looks because I can see that, I can describe it." She was gazing toward the window, seeing in her mind's eye the stranger who had turned her world upside down. "I don't really know how to describe how he makes me feel. Rose, just the sight of him and I'm warm straight through." She placed a hand on her stomach and rubbed lightly, absently. "I've seen him every day, I know he's waiting for me too, it's not just me, and I can sense how much it will hurt if the day comes that I don't see him." She swallowed and I felt a matching lump in my throat. It happened like that sometimes. I knew. "I feel silly and like I'm going crazy and like I've never been so happy in my whole life." Her voice caught and she stopped talking. For someone so happy she looked terribly sad.

"Two lumps if you please, Isabella," I said gently. She started and looked at me a little wildly. I'd pulled her back from very far away. I smiled at her in sympathy. "I'll take two please," I said.

I watched her as she completed the pouring out, still far away but not dreamy anymore. Contemplative. She'd left her family and their expectations and moved here to Chicago to live with me for a time before setting off on an adventure of her own choosing. She'd insisted she was sure of what she wanted. One glimpse at this man...

She shook off her reverie and took a sip of her tea. She straightened her shoulders and I hid my smile. She'd be fine. Whatever happened, whatever choice she did end up making for herself. Isabella would be fine.


	2. Witfit Oct 4 Advice

WitFit October 4

Word Prompt: Advice

Plot generator – Idea completion: "Laughter is the best medicine."

I don't own Twilight. This doesn't fit in any of my current stories. The prompt got away from me on this one LOL. Let me know if you'd like to hear the roundabout process of that prompt and this drabble. Remember... unbeta'd, potential hot-mess is what this is all about.

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><p>Oh this is such a bad idea. Not too late thought, no, uh harm done.<p>

"We shouldn't. It'll hurt you."

"You sure think highly of yourself don't you, Cullen?"

I bite back a retort. I am large and it is her first time. Mine too but she doesn't know it. Maybe if I told her that...

She goes on before I can. "I know it's going to hurt. I'm not a pussy, Edward." (Why did she have to say "pussy"?) "Big deal. A little pinch – like this." She reaches over and pinches the skin right below my arm pit. It fucking hurts and I squeal like a girl. She laughs and I can feel the vibration of it through the springs of her bed.

I shift away from her a little, trying to give my body some space so my head can think. My brain, I mean. My head's already made a decision and I need my wit's to keep arguing with him, I mean, it.

Damn.

The last thing I'd expected when Bella invited me over this morning was this. We've been friends for years, nothing more, and she stunned me speechless when she's led me up the stairs to her tiny bedroom and told me what she wanted.

"Why me again?" I ask. She's shifted back beside me so I can either dangle off the bed or touch her. I don't dangle off the bed. She huffs at me, frustrated. I'm stalling and she knows it.

"I told you. I want to get this virginity thing out of the way before I go to college. I don't want to build it up and make it this big thing." I'm shaking my head. It shouldn't be something to "get out of the way." At the same time: I'm a guy. I don't want to fight this off. I want to do it too and I've wanted to for a long time. She doesn't know that either. I fist my hair and try to ignore how warm she feels pressed along my side.

"Don't you want to be in love, Bella? Don't you want to wait for... I dunno? Mr Right or something?" (Why can't I be Mr Right?) She throws her leg over mine and snuggles against my shoulder. I can smell her hair.

"That's just it. Love and sex are two separate things and I don't want to get wrapped up in some romance when all I really want is to get laid. This way I'll know the difference." She breathes deep and I can feel it against my chest. "Besides..." She pauses and I wait. I'm about to hear the truth finally. "Everyone always talks about the heartbreak, you know? Look at Angela and Ben. All that time together, he turns out to be a little shit, and now they've broken up. So her first time is all wrapped up in a bad memory."

"So, you're worried about a broken heart. Fine." It's not fine. She's not making any sense at all. If it's not a big deal why does it matter if it's a bad memory. I leave that be for now. "Still doesn't answer my question." I have an ego. I need to know. "Why me?" Bella snorts.

"Because I know you won't tell anyone." This is going from bad to worse.

"Nice, I'm honoured...was that a tip in Cosmopolitan? Because that is exactly what I wanted to hear." She hears the hurt in my voice and amends her answer.

"Alright. I know you won't tell anyone and ... you're not exactly unattractive." I can only see the top of her head but I know her and I know she's blushing. My hands are balled into fists. If I touch her I'll never stop.

"Look at me." She does. And she is. Her eyes are trying to tell me something and I look at her hard. I don't know what she's thinking. "So you want to do this, with me, because I'm discreet and not ugly?"

"And we're already naked," she says. Yeah, that was stupid. I barely remember taking my clothes off. I'd watched her peel hers away and found myself under the covers of her ridiculously tiny bed before I could form a coherent thought. I mean, she was basically fulfilling a fantasy I had daily. Except for that last answer. In my fantasy she always had a better reason than that.

We shift so we're facing each other and I brush her hair back from her face. I kiss her softly and pull her close. Her skin is velvety and her lips so soft they break my heart. I'm inches from where she thinks she wants me. The room actually spins and I wonder if that's why people usually do this lying down. At least the first time. I stop and smile at her. She blinks up at me, dazed for a moment then shakes her head.

"You're not gonna go all moonlight and roses are you, Edward? It's just sex."

It's a rare clear day, sun slants in the window. I'm naked and in bed with a beautiful woman, a woman I'm pretty sure I'm in love with. She wants me. This could be the beginning or the end of something. She wants a memory and I'm still hoping for a future.

I make my decision.


	3. Witfit Oct 5 Grudge How to Be

WitFit October 5

Word Prompts: Grudge, sludge, nudge

No copyright infringement intended. Based on the film How to Be. I saw the word 'grudge' and immediately thought of Art. Unbeta'd as always. Best read with a British accent. LOL

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><p>Nikki's getting his 'drink on' – his words not mine - and he's insisting I join him. He seems determined to make up for last night's "double date" fiasco. He's off to a poor start if you ask me. I hate this pub and he's knows it. I played an open mic here two months ago, a really good song, completely original, and no one clapped.<p>

I haven't been back since.

He nudges me with a bony elbow and motions to the left with his chin.

"How about that one?"

I glance over and see a tallish blonde standing alone at the bar. Her hair is stringy and I don't like the look of her shoes. I sniff.

"She's too flat-chested."

Nikki shrugs. "Jessica didn't have any tits to speak of."

"Suppose that's why I'd like some big ones this go-round." I snap. I look down and stare into my pint glass.

Nikki's like rubber. My temper just bounces off him and I'm the glue so now I'm in a worse mood. He remains upbeat, optimistic. His head bobs along to the shite music as he surveys the crowded pub for another target.

He talks on without looking at me. "You're not still nursing a grudge, are you Art? S'not my fault that one didn't go for you last night. You _were_ terribly rude." I am incredulous as he drains his pint and waves his empty glass at the bartender to ask for another.

"_I_ was rude?" I splutter. "You invited me out with you, there were two girls, you made me look foolish _and_ you disappeared into the bedroom with _both_ of them. I could hear you for Christ's sake. _I_ was rude? God, Nikki!" He nods through my rant and winces at the word 'God'. He's offended I've taken the Lord's name. Why am I mates with him? He's ridiculous on so many levels.

"Yea, true true. But you did announce you had an erection so..." He shouts this over the shite music.

"Well, I don't have an erection now, do I?" I shout back. I take stock quickly; no, I don't have one right now. I do notice the shite song has hit a quiet part and the word 'erection' is hanging over my head. A dozen or so pairs of eyes dart at me nervously. One girl takes a step away and turns her back on me. Nikki examines his cuticles.

I drain my pint and turn my back on the room to order another. The music volume returns to normal and Nikki joins me at the bar.

"How about that one?" Nikki asks. I follow his gaze to a pretty brunette serving at the other end of the bar.

"Too young." I say. He frowns at me.

"Nah, they're great when they're younger like that. You can go all Svengali and mould them so they're exactly how you like them." He makes a gesture like he's outlining a curvy girl's figure. I'm intrigued and appalled. Don't know which is going to win out in my mind but the whole thing sounds exhausting.

"Too much responsibility." I shrug.

We both take huge gulps from our pints and he resumes his hunt. I don't care. He'll probably find the girl of my dreams on the other side of the bar. Yeah, he'll find her and he'll introduce us. He'll wait for me to say something stupid (inevitable, really). But this girl won't mind because she'll be the girl of my dreams. She's going to understand me. However, this stupid remark will give Nikki an excuse to pull the girl aside to "explain about me" which in turn will lead to me discovering the two of them going at it in the loo. I don't know if it will be the gents or the ladies. Suppose it will matter how classy the girl of my dreams is.

I drain my pint again. How many was that? Ah who cares...

Nikki's done his too and is ordering for both of us again and putting his hand out to me for money. I can't remember which pocket I put my wallet in. I hate this pub. Nikki's ordered Guinness and I blink to clear my eyes and the black looks like sludge and the waterfall in the glass is making me nauseous and I can't find my wallet and I hate this song, why is the music so shite in this place. Always. Something is wrong with the floor, it's all uneven and tilty. Crappy pub. No wonder they didn't appreciate my music.

Wankers wouldn't know a good song if it bit them in the arse.


	4. Witfit Oct 6 Ceremony

WitFit Oct 6

Word Prompt: Ceremony

Scenario: As part of the college course in which you're enrolled, a major portion of your grade will be determined by your oral presentation on an assigned topic. You've spent hours researching and writing, but when you walk into the classroom the morning of the presentation, you discover you've mistakenly researched the wrong topic.

Complete the scenario in any way, in any style, and for any word count. Open your mind and follow where it leads, writing as you go.

_I don't own Twilight. This is the same Edward as the Oct 4 WitFit. Unbeta'd and written in haste. Eep. _

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><p>I am in a nightmare of Freddy Krueger proportions.<p>

How did this happen? What am I going to do?

Oh Jesus Oh Jesus Oh Jesus...

I drop my bag and slump into a seat at the back. My first instinct is to just leave. I look again at the gigantic white board behind the lectern in disbelief.

"_Naming Ceremonies: Cultural and Historical Aspects of Naming Children"_

I blink rapidly and hope the letters will rearrange themselves. I refocus on the whiteboard.

Nope.

The presenters' names are listed on the left side of the whiteboard. I'm up third. I don't mind presenting, I'm actually pretty good at it. Except I don't have an actual presentation on that topic.

This presentation is worth half our grade. This course, Anthropology 1HC2-a, was selected specifically to boost my grade average. I kind of liked this course until today. Today, despite what the whiteboard says, I am in possession of a detailed –and useless - presentation on the history of human sexuality.

I remember thinking it seemed like a fairly provocative subject to assign to first year students for oral presentation but, hey! I had a great time researching it. I was very thorough. I am highly motivated. I have some very interesting plans for Bella and those long legs of hers. I've practically memorized the Kama Sutra.

Too bad it's not the assigned fucking topic. I'm so dead.

Okay. Calm the fuck down Cullen. Options?

Ask Dr Ellington for an extension? No way. He'll rip me a new one and fail me on the spot just to set a precedent.

Ask if I can present what I've got? Sure, let's get up in front of the class and present power point porn while everyone else talks about sweet widdle babies getting their names. Nothing perverted or sick about that.

Hmm... sick. I could pretend I'm sick! I'm not even really pretending – I actually do feel ill now. I'm gonna have to sell it though. I start thinking of gross out material, reaching deep into the back of my brain for the stuff I usually block out. I've been blessed with a queasy stomach and have been known to sympathy hurl. Yeah, I'm fun at parties. People who know me thought I was joking when I said I was going into pre-med.

Dr Ellington stands up and quickly glances 'round, picking out the four of us scheduled to present. Great, now I can't even sneak out. Sick it is. I send up a prayer to the patron saint of student slackers and practice gag a few times. Sometimes I can get sick just from doing that.

My phone buzzes in my pocket. I look at the display and smile through the mild nausea. It's Bella and I can't help smiling when I see her name. Or talk to her. Or think about her. I smile a lot. Although, not to play the blame game or anything, it is kind of her fault that this topic tangle happened. Not really but seeing her name right now makes me smile _and_ brings this series of unfortunate events into order.

The topic of _next week's_ lectures is the history of human sexuality. Next week is after Thanksgiving weekend. This weekend, Thanksgiving weekend, I'm seeing Bella for the first time since that crazy, naked morning in her bedroom. So sex as a topic of thought just crept into my schoolwork. And my free time. And my dreams. Bella waiting for me in her bed has altered me on a molecular level, well I'm pretty sure anyway. I don't take Bio until next term.

I scroll to her text message. The words on the screen don't make sense and, like with the whiteboard earlier, I blink to see if the letters will rearrange themselves.

Nope.

_Hey Cullen sorry, can't skype tonite. I have a date. Wish me luck? C u this wend_

"Mr Cullen!" Dr Ellington calls out to get my attention. I have to concentrate really hard on lifting my head to look at him. I've broken out in a sweat and the nausea isn't pretend anymore. It's real. The gripping pain in my stomach is causing me to grimace. I may be green.

He frowns at me. "You don't look well at all, son." He looks worried as he appraises me. "You go on and get some rest. You can present after the holidays."


	5. WitFit Oct 7 Tart 1929

WitFit Oct 7

Word prompt: Tart

Dialogue Flex: "Why are there so many choices?" she asked.

_I don't own Twilight. This fits in 1929 Chapter 11. Bella's POV. Unbeta'd, just the way it's supposed to be. ;)_

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><p>I watched Edward as he left on his errands, a jaunty bounce in his step as he turned from Rose's path to the sidewalk. I half-expected him to cut a caper. When I couldn't see him anymore I closed the door and, while I didn't dare attempt a caper myself, I did perform a small jig. There may have been a little bit of squealing too.<p>

When Edward came back we were going to...

Oh I had so much to do before then!

I dashed off the letters necessary to clear my conscience and, with that weight off my shoulders, turned to more pleasant preparations.

Should I wash my hair? Hmm, not enough time really.

Change the bed's linen? Now that there was time for. In fact, it was completely necessary since the sheets just had to be full of sand. I spared a moment to think about the reason my clothes had been full of sand which led to thinking about the delicious way Edward had felt when he'd been on top of me... oh, the way he'd looked at me... which led me right back to getting ready for Edward's return. I hoped he wouldn't be too long.

I dashed up the stairs and stripped and made up the bed with fresh white sheets, the softest ones I could find. I swept up the sand – there was quite a lot of it – and in a fit of sentiment decided to save it. I found a glass in the bathroom and poured the sand into it, smiling.

"_To see the world in a grain of sand..." _

I could feel the blush creeping. Yesterday Edward had been... so unlike Edward. I really had been merciless with him over the last weeks, teasing and tempting him. Seeing him snap like that had been overwhelming, like realizing the cat you've been playing with is actually a ravenous lion. I was ready for him, I wanted to give him everything but he'd held on to just enough control to make sure our clothes stayed on. It hadn't stopped him from making me see stars though. I felt warm phantom twinges down low and a wave of dizzy desire. There was a sweet, dull ache in a place I hadn't really known about until yesterday. I wondered how long it would be until Edward was back.

I looked around the room, trying to see it through new eyes. After tonight this wouldn't be my room anymore. It would be our room. The simple ceremony Edward suggested had seemed a bit silly to me at first but I thought more now. This was very important to Edward. I knew he was making a huge compromise to respect my feelings about marriage – even though I couldn't even articulate them properly. My feelings for _him_ were strong and real; love, respect, desire. Now I added gratitude. I looked around the luxurious but stark room again and saw what needed to be done. I would make this special for him.

-MCMXXIX-

The candles had been easy. Dozens of them, in all different shapes and all white. Now I was in the flower shop, a bit overwhelmed by the selection.

The scent was intoxicating and I opened my mouth to breathe it in deeply. Spicy and sweet, cool and refreshing. Like Edward's kiss yesterday, all red wine and lake-cooled air. I touched my lips in remembrance. How could he be so gentle and so demanding at the same time? What might his kisses be like tonight when we wouldn't be stopping? I shivered and it wasn't from the chilly temperature of the shop. Time was running short though. I needed to make a decision.

I was tempted by the carnations. They were lush and held the right meaning – I was most certainly captivated by Edward. Perhaps the orchids? Seduction was heavy on _my_ mind but I knew this all meant much more to Edward than just going to bed.

Gardenias? Lilies? Sweet pea? For crying out loud why couldn't I make a decision?

"Why are there so many choices?" I asked out loud in frustration. The clerk raised her eyebrows at me but I shook my head. I didn't need help deciding. This was my decision to make, not something to pass off to someone else.

When had all of this become so important to me too?

I had a little epiphany in that flower shop. Edward was going to share my life from this day forth and I realized something with a jolt. I might not want the wedding and formality but I was hours away from making promises that I very much wanted to keep. I was surprised how much I wanted to make them. I'd been so concerned with convincing Edward that marriage wasn't necessary to notice that I didn't want to go a day without him. Tears pricked my eyes. Edward understood me better than I understood myself – and accepted me. I wanted to run home and find him there, right this second to tell him.

I swiped at my eyes to clear them and scanned the flowers again. "Roses please. The white ones, five dozen," I said to the clerk. That was my choice. Now I had to choose something for Edward.

I remembered the first flowers he'd given me, months ago. He'd nuzzled behind my ear and told me the scent reminded him of me.

Freesias.

The clerk showed me how to arrange them so the roses acted as support for the freesias and the total effect was dazzling and pure and rich with their combined sweetness.

It was a small thing but it was one of the first things I was deciding for both of us. And we didn't have to want the same thing. As long as we were together.


	6. WitFit Oct 8 Stomp

WitFit Oct 8

Word prompt: Stomp

_I don't own Twilight. This has nothing to do with Twilight but I've used the name "Bella" so I feel obliged to disclaim. Unbeta'd and written Hemingway style._

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><p>This uniform. Fuck. It's too tight under the arms and it's been chafing since about ten seconds after I put it on. It's that pukey colour between green and yellow, the colour that no one looks good in but sounds good when you say it out loud. This is probably the only reason it gets ordered. Because people like saying it and have no idea what it is. They also don't have to wear it if they're ordering it.<p>

In spite of the discomfort of the uniform, I slip into this job like it's an old pair of jeans. I'm comfortable here. I smile and joke, refill coffee and clear empty plates. There isn't another girl in the place besides Jessica, the other waitress. The lunch crowd is what I expected – loud, boisterous, smelly men – and they all fall over themselves to greet me. This is a smallish town and I am the shiny new toy.

The bell above the door dings and a fresh draft of cold air gusts through the diner. I hand change to the middle-aged man in front of me, wink and tell him I'll see him tomorrow before looking at the new customer. I see tall, the crime scene height chart on the door jamb lists this guy at about 6'2". He stomps his feet to rid the snow and I see boots, size elevens at a first guess.

I scan up the dirty jeans, noting the hole in the knee and the significant bulge in the right place. I feel my face curve into a smirk and I look away, fill a coffee cup and banter with the gap-toothed guy near the dessert display. I wait to see if Jessica will swoop in and stake her claim on the newest arrival. He seems like the type to be claimed.

He sits in my section and picks up the paper menu tacked to the condiment stand. The rest of him is even better than the long legs and the big feet. I check him out through my lashes as I go to take his order. Now _that_ is a face. I know I can't gape and I send all remaining brain strength to keeping my jaw from dropping. He's almost unreal. Angelic and chiselled, doe eyed and killer-jawed. That's an understatement. He's not just a stand out in this sea of geezers and schmucks. This kid could model. I want his magnificent mug on those big billboards along the highways. I want all of him on those big billboards, a la Mr Marky Fucking Mark.

However, business is business.

"What can I get you?" I strike my pose; pen over pad, teeth in bottom lip. My hair is up in a high pony tail but tendrils always escape. I jut out a hip and rock slightly back and forth. The patented "diner damsel in distress".

He looks up at me and then back to the menu and back up to me again in a rapid double take that makes me smile. He thinks I'm pretty - they mostly do in places like this and I count on that. But this guy's different. I try to guess his age. Maybe close to mine. He just seems younger.

He swallows loud enough for me to hear it and looks at the menu again. He shakes his head and looks up at me. There is no leer, no looking me up and down with speculation. Just a sweet, nervous smile. He gathers courage. "What's good today?" he asks.

I wink at him and he blushes. "Nothing's good here. Avoid the tuna at all costs." He laughs a little and I can imagine, in one of those crazy instants that happen in your mind, I can imagine a whole life of making this guy happy and hearing that laugh.

He's still looking up at me and I try to stay cool. His eyes are green and guileless. They cut through me and make me feel things I don't want to feel. "The turkey special?" he asks. I pull a face and shake my head. "Pastrami on rye? Mac and cheese?" His eyes drift down and I'm pretty sure he's checking the girls but those baby greens dart right back up and then away. Eye guilt? Eye apology? I can't get a read on this guy.

"Bella! Order up!" Mike the cooking douche calls out. The beautiful kid actually jumps in his seat as if he's been caught at something. I tilt my head to the side; I want to take his order. This is my job.

"Soup? I'll take whatever soup you have today." I jot his order down. This boy is getting extra crackers. We nod at each other. I hope I'll get a chance to watch him sip soup from his spoon. I hope he's a regular. I hope he's not a regular. I wonder how long I'll be in this town.


	7. WitFit Oct 10 Roll

Witfit Oct 10

Word Prompt: Roll

Plot Generator—Binding Blurb: In 500 words or fewer, write a blurb or a short entry on turning a blind eye.

I don't own Twilight.

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><p>From the controversial author of "<em>Isabella Swan: Too Young to Die<em>" and "_No Blood, No Foul: The Mike Newton Story_" comes the sensational, all new, unauthorized biography of revolutionary musician Edward Cullen.

Jacob Black's "_Turning a Blind Eye: Who Let Down Edward Cullen?_" chronicles the early years of the troubled superstar, featuring interviews with his first guardian, Esme Platt, former teachers and social workers as well as never before seen photos of Edward Cullen with his birth mother. Mr Black's meticulous research takes the reader on a journey through the tortured singer-songwriter's first public performances, the evolution of the musical innovation that came to be known as "The Cullen Beat" and the phenomenal worldwide adulation that eventually caused him to flee the spotlight.

Having gained never before allowed access to Edward Cullen's closest confidants, the author weaves a heart-breaking tale of loneliness amid the storm of fame and fortune. His former loves and secret children share their personal memories of the man who touched their lives while shaping the future of popular music.

Mr Black reveals in vivid detail the greed and treachery of Edward Cullen's management and band mates, including the scandalous events of Nov 18th 2018. Available for the first time ever, fans of Edward Cullen can read the full transcript of the recorded phone call between Edward and Aro Volterra and see the photos from inside the recording studio. The first and only known digital image of Edward's unaltered warrant of arrest is also included in the gallery of new and personal photos.

Here is the man and the legend, as you've never seen him before. The highs of brilliance and accolades, along with the lows as Edward succumbs to the lure of drugs and a rumoured depression. In the final chapters, Mr Black presents multiple theories, inviting the reader to unravel the mystery of Edward Cullen's suspicious and unsolved disappearance in the Galapagos at the tragically young age of 27.

_Look for "Turning a Blind Eye", the major motion picture in theatres Summer 2029._

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><p><em>So I'm going to start doing a little explanation here about how I get from prompt to post. I had NO idea what to do with this at first. Did they want me to talk about personal experiences? I didn't know. So I lit'rally googled "blurb" and saw something about it being the explanation on the inside of a book jacket. "Roll" went quickly from 'roll in the hay' (that was instant and very enjoyable) to 'rock n roll'. Edward Cullen, the tortured musician is born. And maybe died. I dunno. I think he's just a hermit, don't you?<em>


	8. WitFit Oct 11 Premium

WitFit Oct 11

Word Prompt: Premium

Dialogue Flex: "I don't know what to believe," he said.

_I don't own Twilight. Once again the prompt led me very far away. Bit of a gore warning on this one. Sorry. Also, if you just were looking for something light and fluffy... it's not here. Unbeta'd and I'm posting at 2:30 a.m after a Kings of Leon concert. I'd run away now if I were you... _

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><p>"Okay, Bella. Here it comes, deep breath and another big push just like that last one." The nurse began what I'd nicknamed her "contraction chant" which was a series of encouraging and soothing but mostly nonsensical syllables. Bella squeezed her eyes shut and bore down hard. She'd bellowed and groaned through the eight contractions she'd had since she started pushing. This time she grunted through it, a desperate sound in the back of her throat. She turned red with her effort. I held my breath in sympathy. I was in complete awe of her.<p>

The nurse cooed at her some more and checked the readouts from the monitors as the contraction waned. I mopped Bella's brow and her body slumped back in relief, sinking into the very temporary respite from the pain. She had stopped talking between the contractions a few back; she was so deep inside her own body that I wasn't sure she even saw me. We'd taken the birthing classes offered by the hospital but I couldn't recall how long this part could go on... and I didn't want to ask in front of Bella in case the answer was discouraging. This was our first child, and I wouldn't blame her if it was our last. I mostly just hoped she'd let me touch her ever again.

After all the months of waiting and preparing, the moment was here. Earlier on, back at home, we'd joked that we were going to have a sitcom birth – and we'd made a good start of it. Bella's water had broken in the kitchen and I'd slipped and fallen in it. Bella caught that on her iPhone and said she was going to YouTube it once we got back home. On the drive to the hospital a contraction had hit. Bella had grabbed at me; I'd swerved and hopped the curb. We _both_ forgot her suitcase (although after some debate it was deemed completely my oversight) and had to go back for it. She swore at me like she meant it. She was rude with the admitting nurse when asked for insurance papers that she had already submitted. Bella was never rude, not intentionally anyway, but a really good contraction hit her right there and she ranted through it. It was all kind of fun, well, only for me I guess. And only the beginning part.

I felt like we'd been in this room for days. Bella looked exhausted, still beautiful to me, always beautiful, but beat. I knew she could do this but I couldn't help worry. It hurt to see her like this. It was easy to forget there was a baby at the end of the, uh, tunnel. This reminded me that Bella wanted me to watch the baby be born. Like, the grand finale. I wasn't keen on the idea but I figured it was the least I could do. Bear witness, as it were. It would be easier to stay up here, near her head, holding her hand and supporting her and I didn't think she would remember in her current state where I'd been or what I'd said. I pictured a marching band going through the room without Bella's noticing. I wouldn't cop out though. I kissed her forehead and walked over to the foot of the bed.

The nurse was starting the contraction chant again and Bella curled forward, straining and keening. I winced and darted a glance down, to where the action, hopefully very soon, would be taking place. I didn't know how she could be so strong to go through all this when it was so painful just to watch.

Everything happened very quickly then.

The monitors went off, shrill and sinister, and the nurse went from sweet and soft-spoken to drill sergeant.

"Bella! Stop pushing. You need to stop pushing right now!" Out of the side of my eye I could see the nurse pressing the button to summon the doctor. She called out for help too. "Placental abruption in room 22!" Bella screamed a high pitched scream, completely different from the sounds earlier, and my hair stood on end. Two nurses ran in, scrambling and shouting while the first nurse lowered the head of Bella's bed. I was rooted to the spot, none of this making any sense. Blood gushed from Bella, staining the stark white sheet beneath her. I knew some bleeding was normal but this was not normal. This was not normal. She screamed again and I saw more blood pump out of her, and remembered my dad talking about patients 'bleeding out' and knew this was happening to my Bella.

I shouted her name and tried to go to her but strong arms pulled me back as more nurses and doctors crowded into the room. I fought back – I had to get to her – but the arms were stronger and dragged me back toward the door.

"Bella! Bella! What's happening? Oh God, no please no... BELLA!" I begged the room as I stared at Bella, trying to make sense of what was happening. Cold terror seized me at the sight of her. Moments ago she had been flushed but now she was as white as the sheets on the bed. She didn't scream again and her silence was like a knife so I was bleeding inside too. Whoever I was struggling with was succeeding and pulled me through the door. I grabbed at him and tried to ask what was happening.

"What..?" I whispered. His eyes were kind and sad.

"Sorry, you'll have to wait for the doctor." The door to Bella's room swung open and the orderly pulled me back again, against the wall and out of the way. Nurses and doctors surrounded Bella on her blood-stained bed, their voices sounding like a disorganized jabber. She was so still, so pale, the curve of her belly chastising me. The orderly was holding me up, I couldn't help her but I called to her, hoping she could at least hear me.

"I'm here, Bella. I'm here. Hold on. Baby, hold on." I watched her being wheeled away as the orderly led me to a chair. He was muttering about ORs and emergency surgery and should they call someone for me? My dad. I needed to call my dad. I pulled up his number and waited while it rang. My head was spinning. He answered on the second ring.

"Edward! We've been waiting. Well don't keep us -" I cut him off. I could barely get the words out.

"Dad, it's bad. I don't know... they just took her. She's bleeding, wha... what's a 'placental abrup-"

My father grasped the situation immediately and went swiftly from expectant grandpa to doctor. "Edward. I'm hanging up now and coming over. Do you hear me? I'm on my way." The line went dead and if he'd meant to reassure me he'd failed miserably. I dropped the phone into my lap and put my head in my hands. Why wouldn't someone tell me something? How was I supposed to sit here without knowing what was happening? Bella...

I'm ashamed to admit I crumpled. I sobbed right there in the waiting room, silent, heaving sobs. I tried to imagine a life, a world, without Bella and couldn't. She had to be okay, she had to. But how much could someone bleed and still live? I sat there in a shock of terror. I didn't ask for news because I was too afraid of what I'd hear. Time passed, I watched people's shoes drift in and out of the waiting room but I didn't lift my head. I replayed the horrific scene over and over; Bella screaming and bleeding, doctors and nurses scrambling and, to my eyes anyway, looking completely inept. How had that beautiful day, a sunny sweet day, nine months ago resulted in this? What if I never saw her again?

A hand clapped on my shoulder and I braced myself. My father was there, in scrubs – clean scrubs – and I begged him silently. _Please_.

He smiled at me gently, the same smile I'd seen through a childhood of fevers and broken bones. "Have a little faith son." He clasped my hand and urged me to stand. "They're going to be alright, Edward." It took me a long moment to fully understand his words. I looked at him wildly. He nodded and I trusted him.

"I know they gave you quite the scare but Edward, they're going to be alright. Both of them." I took a deep breath, it felt like the first one in hours and I struggled to believe. My father looked at me with affection. He was grandpa again.

"C'mon Edward. Your daughter wants to meet you."

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><p><em>Okay prompt to post... Premium led to health insurance premiums leading to hospitals. I'm Canadian so that is weird. "I don't know what to believe" he said, simply was more of an internal thing. He thought it, he just didn't say it out loud. I had a busy day... I don't know why this prompt made me go dark. Trust me, even the early ideas were all cheating and nasty and etc. I don't know what got into me. Very sorry if this was upsetting to anyone. I do want to try out a few different genres here and will always warn at the top if it's darkish.<em>

_On a personal note, I had two lovely natural births with midwives. This is kind of like a human Breaking Dawn._


	9. WitFit Oct 12 Agreed

WitFit Oct 12

Word Prompts: Agreed, proceed, succeed

Choose one word and write what your imagination dictates. For an added challenge, include all three words in your entry.

_I don't own Twilight. This is the same Edward and Bella from "Advice" and "Ceremony" but we're jumping back in time a bit. _

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><p>"Edward, who are you going to take to prom?" Classic out of the blue Bella. I take the pencil I've been chewing on out of my mouth.<p>

"Prom? No one. I wasn't planning on going." I answer. We're at her kitchen table, reviewing for next week's finals. I will not be sorry to see the ass end of high school. "Prom's just a socially endorsed excuse for teenagers to act like lunatics. Not my thing." I'm distracted. I'm studying.

"What if we went together?" Bella asks. Her tone is so casual it takes a minute for the words to sink in. My head snaps up. I can't see her face, she's leaning forward over her book and her hair is a shield.

I want to move her hair but I don't. "You want to go?" I'm surprised and I'm not. She does this.

"It's an important rite of passage and I don't want to miss it." She could be reading from our Chem text. That's her enthusiasm level.

"Didn't anyone ask you?" I'm curious about this. I also feel something unfamiliar brewing.

She looks up finally and smirks. "Yeah. Yorkie and Newton both asked." She shakes her head. Why do I suddenly hate Yorkie and Newton?

"And you said no to them because you _want_ to go to prom?" I make crazy eyes at her and she laughs. The sound of it makes me happy.

"I want to go to prom, not be mauled at prom. Ew." She shudders. I want to take her to prom. I think I want to maul her at prom too but I won't.

"Are you going to wear a dress?" I ask.

"Nah, I thought I'd just wear this." She gestures to her jeans and tee and I look where she's pointing. I shift in my chair. "Of course I'm going to wear a dress!"

"What colour is it?" I ask. I try to picture Bella in a dress. I am so taking her to prom. I wonder if she'll wear heels. I twitch and mentally thank the table for its shelter.

Being a hormonal teenager isn't always as fun as it sounds.

"I don't know - I haven t got it yet." Bella snorts. "Why? You gonna get a matching tie?" This is said with serious derision.

I pull a face. "Pfft, no." I scoff. Not now I'm not going to. "I need to know so I can order your corsage."

She smiles. Sometimes she's such a girl. "You don't have to do that." I shrug.

"I want to." I really, really want to. In fact, I kind of wish I had flowers for her right now. Apparently prom talk turns me into a girl too.

"So, to sum up," Bella says. I try to read her paper upside down. Has she been taking notes? "You will take me to prom. There will be no mauling. I will wear a dress of a yet to be determined colour and you have graciously offered to provide a corsage. Sound like a plan?" I bite my tongue so I don't laugh. This is Bella's MO when we work on school projects together.

I respond with my usual response.

"Agreed."

O0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0 o0

Bella's dress is some sort of green. Emerald, maybe? It's silky and swishes around her knees when she walks down the stairs. It looks like something from one of those Audrey Hepburn movies she's always watching. I have to remind myself not to stare at her legs. Or her bare shoulders. I fumble a bit when I pin on her corsage. She smells fucking amazing.

She blushes when her dad insists on taking a picture of us and we stand close with our arms around each other's waist.

When we step outside she sees what I'm driving.

"What is that?" she gasps. Her jaw actually drops. I smirk, pleased she likes the surprise.

"_That_ is my father's Aston Martin. Thought this rite of passage deserved a special chariot." I open the door and help her into her seat. Her skirt rides up, I see creamy skin and my mouth actually waters as I shut the door. "No mauling, no mauling, no mauling," I chant softly to myself as I go around the car to the driver side.

The drive to school is interesting. We're like different people and we both steal peeks when we think we can get away with it. I like that she seems to like what she sees. I'm glad I got a new suit.

The gym looks like it's been toilet-papered and approximately half the students are drunk or acting like it. Rite of passage my ass. Bella's quiet but I like the way she's tucked her hand in my arm. I know it's only because she's wearing heels but I'll take what I can get.

We walk around, get some punch, say 'hi' to a few people. I notice the way guys look at Bella and I don't like it. Funny, I'd never noticed that before. A slow song comes on. I slide a hand to the small of her back.

"Shall we?" I tilt my head toward the dance floor. She looks at me like it's a ridiculous suggestion and glances down to her feet. She's worried about her shoes. "Don't worry," I say. "I'll hold on to you."

She laughs and a few guys turn to look. I wonder if she has any idea how beautiful she looks. How beautiful she is. She's oblivious to the attention and pokes me in the chest. "No mauling, remember?"

"Scout's honour," I say, as I lead her to quiet corner of the dance floor. It's awkward at first, we don't usually touch each other and tonight we haven't stopped. Her hand is so small in mine, and so soft, and I wonder again why I never noticed before. There's a distance between us, to prevent the mauling, and I laugh quietly.

"What?" Bella looks up at me. Her brown eyes are sparkling. Or maybe it's just the disco ball. I don't know because I can't look into them very long without feeling like there's something wrong with my stomach. I look back and forth between our arms, stretched out so there is a circle of floor at our feet.

"Remember that stupid movie you made me watch over and over? The one where the guy teaches the girl to dance on the log and in the water and stuff?" Her shoulders shake with laughter and she nods. "Well, this is like that. This is your dance space." I wave a hand in her vicinity. "This is my dance space." I draw an air circle in front of my chest. I replace my hand on her waist. "No mauling." We turn in slow rotations, looking around at the other couples.

Newton has his tongue down Jessica's throat. _Good call, Bella_, I think to myself. Angela and Ben are swaying together. He barely comes up to her chin and his cheek is pressed against her chest. It's kind of sweet. Random jocks and cheerleaders are not so sweet. I'm sure grinding feels good. It's not so fun to watch.

"Dirty Dancing!" I blurt out.

"Jesus, Edward. Let's work up to that, 'kay?" Bella's cracking up, at my expense. I don't mind at all.

I notice that Bella and I have lost some of the individuality of our respective dance spaces. We've drifted closer together and I don't think it was all me. I look at her, I can't help it. Her eyes dart to mine and away. She licks her lips.

God, I want to kiss her.

The song changes and a bunch of things I hadn't wanted to think about come into sharp focus.

_Hey there, Delilah, what's it like in New York City_

_I'm a thousand miles away _

_But girl, tonight you look so pretty, yes you do_

Bella's here with me, she feels so good in my arms, like she belongs here. But this is prom – high school is over. In a couple of months we'll be a country apart from each other.

Doesn't change how I feel about her. I thought I'd just been admiring of her, hormones, guy stuff. I think now it might be more.

Somewhere along the line I think I may have fallen in love with Bella.

I pull her closer. There isn't any more personal dance space. None at all. I can feel her through her dress, pressed against me. I focus very hard on not pressing myself into her. I wonder if she can feel me anyway. She sighs and I don't dare ask her why because she might say she doesn't want to dance anymore and this might be the only time I get to hold her like this. I breathe her in, she's sweet and warm. She's so close she could rest her head against my shoulder if she wanted to.

She does. I don't know if guys are supposed to melt but I do.

_Oh it's what you do to me_

_Oh it's what you do to me_

_What you do to me_

She's the reason I haven't dated since junior year. She's the reason I regret choosing the school I did.

I can't tell her. She might freak out. I could lose her. We'll have the summer, go on as we are, and then we'll both be moving away. She looks up at me right then and pulls her 'what the fuck' face.

"Whatchu doin, Cullen?" I shake my head and rearrange my expression. I try to remember what it's like to be around Bella and not feel like this.

"Nothing. I'm not doing anything."

Woohoo I actually used the prompt word today. These guys were instantly in my mind when I read the prompt, and although I didn't use the actual words 'proceed' and 'succeed' I feel like the spirit of them is in this piece.


	10. WitFit Oct 13 Request

WitFit Oct 13

Word Prompt: Request

Audio-Visual Challenge—Musical Mastery: "Autumn" by Paolo Nutini

watch?v=YNO-i22KcIE

Listen to the sample, then write whatever comes to you first.

Unbeta'd.

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><p>Her husband used to love this time of year and she does too, to an extent. The cooler air, the kids returning to school, not that that's been any matter to her for so many years she's lost count but still. It always seemed like the time of new beginnings. Yes she thinks the colours are pretty too but it's just like fireworks going off before plunging you into the full darkness of night. Winter is so dark. She can never completely enjoy the autumn knowing a long, dark winter is on its way. It's going to be next to impossible to get out of the house this year.<p>

The sky is a deep blue, cloudless and still. She sits on the window seat and watches the neighbour kids rake her leaves. They wave to her and she waves back. The colours are gorgeous this year – orange and red and yellow. Some years they all just turn brown and fall. That's always a bit depressing. The kids have raked up a huge pile and one of them dashes up to her front door. She stands unsteadily and reaches carefully for her walker. She hopes he doesn't mind the wait, she doesn't move so quickly anymore.

Each step is an effort and brings a small twinge of pain. She isn't upset by the pain - it's just a fact of life now – but she is upset at people waiting on her. She hates the thought of wasting other people's time. Finally she reaches the door. The sweet boy had knocked once and waited patiently knowing well how slowly his neighbour moved.

His face is flushed with the cold and the exercise, his eyes flashing. "Can we jump a bit first? Then we'll bag them, I promise. We didn't get so many leaves as you and ours went mushy. Yours are good and crunchy." She's paying each of them five dollars to rake up, she's not sure if that's enough money but they agreed quickly to it. Sweet boys.

"Of course you can. Take all the time you want." He and his brother remind her of her own boys, long grown now. She stands in the doorway and watches the little boy run back to the pile. It's colder outside than it looked from the window. The air is sharp and has that metallic bite to it. It'll snow tonight.

She closes the door and makes her way slowly and carefully back to her window seat. She's terrified of falling. She's terrified of spending the time she has left broken and in a bed. Once she's safe and seated she watches the boys take turns jumping, raking the pile up each time. They run and jump and the leaves explode around them. They do it again and again. She can hear the occasional shout but the window is keeping out the sound of the leaves.

It's going to snow tonight. Her good and crunchy leaves will be as soggy as theirs tomorrow. She frowns at a troubling thought. This could be her last chance to walk on the crunchy leaves. She didn't even hear them this year – she hasn't been properly outside in weeks. She's taken from the car in the garage to the garage at the hospital. She suddenly wants this more than anything. To walk on the leaves, hear them crunch and rustle, smell them. A simple thing she's experienced countless times.

She calls her daughter.

"Hi there Carol. I hate to bother you at work... could you come over?"

"Are you okay? What's wrong?" Carol asks.

"Nothing's wrong, I'm fine. I'd like to go outside and I need help..." Carol cuts her off.

"Oh mum, I can't come over now. Tomorrow, okay?" This isn't okay. The leaves will be wet and won't crunch tomorrow. This is her last chance.

She tries to keep the emotion out of her voice. "I'd really like some fresh air, the leaves are so pretty. Do you remember how much your father loved autumn?" She can hear her daughter's distraction and she feels guilty. Carol does so much for her, she really shouldn't ask for something so frivolous.

"Mum, I really can't, I'm sorry. Listen, I have to go, are you sure you're alright?" Carol speaks to someone in her office.

Her lip actually quivers and she wants to get off the phone now so her daughter won't hear her cry. "Yep, fine. See you tomorrow!" She hangs up the phone and swallows back tears. Perhaps her memories will do. She tries to remember last year and can't. The act of walking in the leaves was too simple, too ordinary. She didn't appreciate it – she didn't know it was the going to be the last time - and now she can't remember.

Tears sting her eyes and she sniffs. All the times she must have walked with the children, walked with her husband. Long walks through the woods, shorter walks to school, with the leaves flying through the air and around their feet. The dry crackle of the buggy wheels over the colourful carpet. The laughs and squeals as her own children raked the leaves and jumped in them over and over.

She's angry with herself. Moping! She's not dead yet and if she wants to walk in the crunchy leaves then she will damn well walk in the crunchy leaves. It's her last chance. She gets ready slowly and carefully, she can't manage her coat on her own but she wears a hat and scarf and gloves. She can't bend to get her boots on but her slippers will do. She's not going to be out for very long. She hoists herself up with her walker and makes her way painfully and slowly to the front door.

When she opens the door she sees a car in the driveway and a figure coming up the walk. She squints a little, the sun is bright, and waits to see who it is.

"Hi Nana!" It's Libby, her oldest grandchild, and she bounds up the stairs to the door. "Mum called. She said you'd like some fresh air."

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><p>Sorry, sorry. Overwrought I know but this truly is what first occurred to me. The song prompt, along with the obvious autumn theme, made me think about time passing and the moment when we realize it isn't infinite for anyone. 'Request' is pretty obvious. This is from my real life; change autumn to spring, leaves to blossoms and nana to papa.<p> 


	11. WitFit Oct 14 Stripe

WitFit Oct 14

Word Prompt: Stripe

Plot Generator—Phrase Catch: Straight from the heart.

Repeat the phrase to yourself five times, open a blank word document and begin.

_I don't own Twilight. This one is a real M rating._ _But a "Debb" M so... unbeta'd because that's the name of the game. Light and fluffy after the week we've had. _

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><p>Oh this has to be heaven.<p>

Being surrounded by the dark velvet of a balmy night, the soft glow of low stars and Edward's voice must be close to heaven. Has to be. It's late, the campfire has burned low and I'm floating a bit from the beer and the dark but I won't drift off. I'd have to close my eyes to drift off and that would be a colossal waste of the sight before me.

Edward by firelight, strumming his guitar and singing into the night air, isn't something you can get used to. His hair dances with the flames, his face glows with intensity and, God, when he throws his head back and growls... I'm enthralled. Literally under a spell of musical making. Some of the songs may be a little cheesy (More than Words? Really Edward?) but I've long since made peace with the idea that Edward can do no wrong. I know I'm falling in love, hard and fast. I'm terrified and exhilarated. I wonder how bad it will hurt when this ends but I wouldn't trade a second of it to ease the inevitable pain. He's a kind of heaven to me.

Now he's singing a song I don't recognize, sweet lyrics about seeking and finding and wholeness. He glances up at me and his eyes don't look their usual green but are dark, intense. He flashes one of his half-smiles and closes his eyes in concentration. I stare unabashed, look my fill. How is he mine?

This song means something to him. It's quieter; his voice rises and falls gently through verse and chorus. I tear my eyes from his beautiful face and watch his fingers on the strings, watch his body rock to the slow beat, hunched, almost protectively over his guitar.

He picks out the last notes and strums a soft finish. Edward looks at me across the fire and I think I might burst into flame.

"What are you doing way over there?" Edward asks. His speaking voice is just as potent on me, low and smokey, more so when we're alone. I'm on my feet and moving over to him before I answer.

"I can't see you play properly if I'm right beside you," I say, as I sit as close as I can get to him and he puts his arm around me. He breathes deep beside me and I feel his lips on my hair. He lays his guitar in its case.

"Well then, enough of that." He leans away for a moment, snapping the case shut, and pushing it into the tent so it won't get damp in the night air. We sit quietly looking at the flames and sip our beer. The tension builds, dense and delicious, as it always does when we're close like this. "Hey Bella," Edward whispers. The night is so still. "Happy anniversary." I know the date but don't know what he means and I twist to look at him. He smiles at my puzzled look. "Three months. And two days." I shove at him playfully with my shoulder.

"You don't have to make an occasion of _everything_, Edward." I nip lightly at his jaw because I can. "Besides, you know I'm kind of a sure thing by now." He chuckles at that and I feel it low inside. He only knows half of what he does to me. He kisses me then and I don't worry anymore about what he's doing with me, why he chose me, how long this might last. Any amount of time with Edward is better than no time with Edward.

His lips are cool from the night air and he tastes like the beer he's been drinking. "Fine," he says, moving his lips to my throat. "No occasion, then." His hands are in my hair, at my waist, and I don't need to surrender because I'm way ahead of him. I'm always waiting for him. He shifts and urges me back. "I want you. Lie down." He sounds like I feel and it doesn't make sense to me but it's not him I don't trust - it's me I don't trust. He kisses me again, lying at my side, pushing my hair back from my face and I feel cherished and I want him too.

There's an edge to him tonight. His touches are a little rougher and, when I moan because I like them, he becomes more frantic. Our clothes go piece by piece; one of mine, one of his and his chest covers mine, soft against hard and we kiss like this is the first time. One of mine, one of his and our legs are bare and tangle and spread and tangle again as we let it build between us.

I was wrong before. _This_ is heaven.

We've done it many different ways in the past three months and two days but I have a favourite. Edward knows and he rolls on top of me and who needs the stars when he's looking at me like that? He smiles, he knows half of what he does to me and he likes it. He leans in and kisses up and down my neck, I grab at his shoulders and pull down, urging his whole body down because I can't wait anymore. I need him inside. I reach down to touch him, silk over granite and I'm proud I can do this to him and hear myself begging 'please' and then he's sliding so close, just outside and he's trying to drive me mad.

We kiss again as we rock together. It's urgent and possessive with the sounds of our lips moving and exhales that are gasps and moans. He's trying to talk, something about the song, he wrote a song for me and then he says he loves me and he's pushing inside and I was wrong again because this, _this_ is heaven...  
>-<p>

_Stripe reminded me of White Stripes so I had music on the brain to start with. The phrase "Straight from the heart"... well repeating that 5 times ended up with me singing the Bryan Adams song of the same name. He also has a very pretty song called "Heaven" which influenced the punches in this. From there it was a quick hop skip and a jump Rob, er, to Edward singing and wooing. Le sigh._


	12. WitFit Oct 15 Notice

WitFit Oct 15

Word Prompt: Notice

_I don't own Twilight but I do admire Diana G and a short story of hers inspired my direction today. Unbeta'd and brief. _

* * *

><p>The girl assembled the items on the tray and steeled her spine. She'd been at the crumbling castle on the hill for a fortnight and this was the most upsetting task each day. She checked the tray again, fearful of an omission that would raise her master's ire. He was terrifying when he was angry, not the kind of angry she was accustomed to from her childhood; he never raised his voice or a hand to anyone. It was a silent and cold type of anger, sinister enough to chill her bones and ruin her sleep. Her world, in the short time she'd been in his employ, had shrunk to avoiding being the trigger of that anger. She had nowhere to go should he put her out.<p>

The castle was damp and dark and disordered; the current staff were insufficient to keep it properly. The food was good though and plentiful, and she had her own room, an unheard of luxury for a maid. The girl glanced at the clock and hastily finished her preparations. Being late also angered her master so she swallowed her fear, picked up the tray with trembling hands, and headed toward the library.

The man waited in a large armchair in front of the roaring fire – this giving the only light in the room - and listened to the swishing skirts and timid footsteps of the approaching girl. She was afraid of him, they all were. That suited him well and he fostered it. They should fear him. He looked to the wide doorway where the girl would appear in a moment before looking back into the fire.

The room was magnificent, the only one that truly reflected the castle's former glory. The furnishings were lush; brocade and velvet, all red and purple and gilt, surrounded by a two full storeys of book shelves. The girl rounded the corner and entered the library, the crystal on the tray catching the light of the flame and casting white shapes on her face and neck. She crossed the room quickly, concentrating on her burden and anxious to be done with this last, terrifying, task of the night.

She started to shake again as she placed the tray on the small table at the man's elbow. He gave a curt nod of acknowledgement; he wanted her to pour the first glass and she reached for the bottle of red wine. She was very careful and not a drop was spilled as she served. The girl, quite against her will, darted one quick look at the frightening man. On this night he looked like a regular man, a handsome man – almost boyish. She looked away before he noticed. He didn't like being looked at and she didn't want him to become angry. The girl wanted out of this foul room and bobbed a curtsy, hoping for a quick dismissal. She wanted her bed. He flicked his hand in dismissal and she was gone quickly.

He picked up the crystal goblet and held it in the air between himself and the fire. The red liquid swirled against the glass, thick and viscous, catching and reflecting the flames. He swallowed thickly and wished he could drink it. He'd even be happy to smell it, such a sensual thing to smell a glass of wine and detect the individual scents of the earth and the fruit and the sun and the rain. He knew the wine wouldn't smell good to him, not anymore. Should he sniff this glass of wine he would smell rot and decay and mould. He looked another moment or two and then replaced the glass on the tray. A different girl would remove this to the kitchen in the morning, untouched and unexplained.

He could smell the fear the new girl had left in her wake and wondered how long he would have to wait. He had been careless last time; people had cared for the last maid and there had been questions. The man was being much more careful with this one. He was checking her correspondence, what little there was of it, and her connections, low as they were. He would be certain no one would care about the disappearance of this girl before doing what must be done.

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><p><em>Eeeeeeeeee. Hold me.<em>

_Prompt to post: notice made me think of jobs, giving notice etc, which led to employment in general and I've been reading historical fiction so here we are. _


	13. WitFit Oct 17 Adhere

WitFit Oct 17

Word Prompt: Adhere

Dialogue Flex: "I really like that song," she said.

Using the provided snippet of dialogue, explore what comes to mind, be it a scene, a thought, or something else.

_I don't own Twilight. Unbeta'd. _

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><p><strong>30 minutes remaining<strong>

I can do this. I put in my earbuds, pull up the appropriate playlist and hit the 'start' button on the treadmill. To my profound disappointment, it actually starts.

God, how I hate going to the gym. I hate the way it smells and the stupid bright lights. I hate the obnoxious, thumping music. Doesn't everyone play their own music anyway? Alice has a point though; the freshmen fifteen could easily spiral to the freshmen fifty. So the gym it is.

I hit the incline button and adjust the speed. I know it's more efficient, burns more calories, to run but I hate that too. My workouts tend toward a long warm up and a long cool down. I wouldn't want to pull anything. Besides, I can read when I'm walking which helps distract me from the pain.

I walk.

**20 minutes remaining**

The song on my iPod changes and, even though I hate this song too, I turn it up to drown out the even worse song being played through the gym's speakers. I have a special playlist specifically for the gym; my first playlist was all my favourite upbeat songs. My 'go to' happy songs. After a week of listening to them while I tortured my body I started to associate them with the pain. So I created a special list of songs I already despise which makes this whole experience even worse. In for a penny, in for a pound.

I walk a little faster.

**15 minutes remaining**

I sigh and reluctantly increase the speed. I remind myself that this buys me guilt-free pizza and beer plus, I suppose I'd like my heart to last a lifetime. It's hard to keep that in mind when my legs are protesting almost as soon as I start running. Another crappy song starts and I stare moodily at my reflection in the poorly thought out floor-to-ceiling mirrors in front of the bank of cardio machines. Do people really enjoy watching themselves bounce and sweat? Nevermind.

I run. Kind of slowly.

**12 minutes remaining**

My lungs are burning. The mirror is not kind. I'm bouncing and red and am forcefully reminded of Phoebe from Friends running in Central Park. My toes have gone a bit numb and my ass has invented a new muscle just to cause me more pain. The crappy playlist has stopped distracting me at all and I dig deep to make myself keep going because the lazy part of my mind – the dominant part - is starting to whisper.

_Press stop. Do it. Stop the insanity!_

I run. A little faster because I don't like being bossed around. Even by my own brain.

**10 minutes remaining**

I'm actually dripping sweat now. I try to control my breathing so I don't pass out. The only thing worse than running on a treadmill is falling on one. I hate this to very bottom of my being. Stupid Alice and her stupid ideas. She's doing some sort of gentle yoga in a quiet, pretty room. Perhaps Alice has been spliced with a hummingbird or has a tapeworm or something because she doesn't have to burn calories. Lucky bitch.

I run on even though my legs and Dom brain scream at me to stop.

**8 minutes remaining**

The gym is always kind of busy but I notice a bit of extra activity in the reflection. It seems like a small group is observing something but it doesn't look very organized. I check my balance before glancing back up. The group has moved, it's all girls, and I wonder what they're looking at. I follow the direction of their looks. A tall guy is doing chin ups... and the girls are tittering nearby. Morons. The poor guy finishes his reps and swipes at his forehead with a towel, turning so I can see his face in the mirror. Wow, he is something... very pretty, better than pretty, he's gorgeous.

His little entourage follows along as he moves to the next section. He's either oblivious or a really good actor. In fact, he does seem really focused on his workout. He grabs some free weights and starts doing lunges. When he steps forward and dips he takes up the whole mat. I see his thigh muscles flex and I stumble on the treadmill, catch myself and keep on running.

How am I still running?

**5 minutes remaining**

He's doing the circuit and his next stop is closer and I get a better look. His face is that perfect mix of boyish and manly. I want to mother him _and_ I want to ... well. He's lean, tall and lean, but there's a nice, big bump when he works his biceps. His shirt is one of those sleeveless ones and I catch a glimpse of well-defined shoulders and curse the gym's mandatory shirt policy. Does he have abs? That sexy 'V'? I'll never know if he can't take his shirt off. He wipes the sweat from his brow again. The crowd of females has grown... there may be a dude or two enjoying this show too. A few of the girls actually jostle each other as they try to stay within striking distance. If they were moving at double time you could play the Benny Hill theme song for an extra layer of ridiculous.

Now he's directly behind me and he sits at the machine to do whatever that machine does and I know he's gonna get an eyeful of my bouncy ass. I'm familiar with sucking in my stomach but I have no idea how to make my ass more appealing on such short notice. Clench it? Jut it out?

While I'm debating this with myself, the treadmill's timer goes off and the countdown for the last two minutes begins. I take out my earbuds and check the mirror. Mr Tall, Lean and Focused has finished up that set, grabbed his towel and water, and is walking straight forward.

He steps up onto the treadmill beside mine. We glance at each other. He smiles and says 'hi' and, because I am a charming conversationalist, I say 'hi' back. His eyes are green and kind - you can just tell sometimes - and he either doesn't know or doesn't care that he has a fan club.

I smile to myself and program the treadmill for another 30 minutes.

* * *

><p><em>Prompt to post: adhere = sticking to something. And then liking the songs, or not liking the songs. There is a whole lot of irony in this and I almost deleted the whole thing when I realized what I'd done. Boo. <em>


	14. WitFit Oct 18 Recover

WitFit Oct 18

Word Prompt: Recover

Plot Generator—Idea Completion: Nothing but a pack of lies.

An idea or concept is presented. Follow where it leads you.

_I don't own Twilight. This is the same setting and characters as Stomp aka "Dinerward" but I've changed from Bella's first person perspective to the third person. _

* * *

><p>This place is busier than the last one Bella worked at, more of a dump though, and the tips aren't as good. So for all her hard work she doesn't make any more money. Her feet are killing her and her back aches. There is no down time. She's bullied to work through her breaks and ends up scarfing something in the kitchen while dodging random gropes from Mike the cooking douche. But it will be worth it if this pans out the way she's planned.<p>

The only bright spot in this new job is the beautiful kid, Edward. He comes in for lunch daily, usually alone, but today he sits between two guys. They're about Edward's age and wear similar rough clothes; dirty jeans, tees under plaid, ball caps. That is where the similarities end. Bella likes to think of herself as a pretty good judge of character. She can usually size someone up within a few minutes of meeting them. She takes in the self-satisfied sneer of the guy on Edward's right and the pock-marked and piggy look of the one on his left and sums the trio up as the good, the bad and the ugly.

Edward is finishing up his soup, listening with half an ear to the misogynistic conversation of Eric and Tyler. He really doesn't like the way they're talking about, or looking at, Bella. They were rude when they ordered and leered at her when she brought their lunch. He feels kind of bad; they probably talk about Jessica the same way but Edward never noticed or cared. He doesn't know what these guys want with him anyway. He feels like a freshman about to get shaken down for his lunch money.

Bella works her way down the counter, refilling and clearing as she goes. She's had one eye on Edward since he came in with those goons and can't figure what a sweet kid like him is doing with them. They've been loud and obnoxious since the moment they sat down – and that is saying something considering the rest of the riff raff in this place. Edward doesn't look like he's enjoying himself. He hasn't smiled except when he first saw her and said 'hello, Bella'. She likes the way his mouth looks when he says 'Bella', full lips pursing together, tongue flicking over the 'la'. She's glad she chose that as her name this time. She wants to see Edward smile and she has an idea.

Edward watches Bella work her way down the counter. He watches her carry plates from the kitchen window, settle bills at the till. Bella slides the door of the dessert case open and takes out a plate. She walks along, getting closer to him and he drops his eyes hoping she hasn't caught him staring at her again. She slides the plate in front of Edward and starts to walk away. He looks quickly from the plate to her retreating back.

"Excuse me. I didn't order this." He sounds apologetic. She looks over her shoulder and winks.

"You looked like you needed a piece of pie," she says.

The guys sitting on either side of Edward nudge him and make rude comments. It pisses him off.

"Fuck off," he mutters.

Eric raises his eyebrows and leans away from Edward like he's impressed but his expression is laced with a cruel sarcasm. "What did you say, Eddie?" Edward shrinks into himself a little. It's not like him to fight back and he doesn't know what's gotten into him. He looks up at Bella. She's what's gotten into him. She looks over then and he doesn't want her to see him acting like a pussy.

"I said... 'fuck off'." He looks straight ahead. "Don't talk about her like that."

Tyler stands up. Edward flinches and hates himself for it. He's never seen himself so clearly as now, when he's thinking about what she sees. Eric stands too and Bella heads toward them, thumbing through her stack of order receipts. Tyler claps Edward on the shoulder.

"Decided to grow a pair, huh Eddie?" he says.

Bella slaps their bills on the counter but the guys don't pick them up.

"Eddie's gonna pick up the tab today. Aren't you Eddie?" They walk to the door and grab their coats from the rack. They leave without a backward glance.

Edward reaches out for the bills but Bella snatches them back up. He looks up at her, confused.

"What are you doing?" he asks. Bella is tucking the bills back into her apron shaking her head with suppressed anger. Her eyes flash at him.

"You're not paying for those assholes. _That_ was a dine and dash." She clears their places and wipes the counter. She fills Edward's coffee up and passes him the sugar because although she's only been working here for five days she knows he likes sugar in his coffee. "Eat your pie," Bella orders.

Edward watches her move off to wait on other customers. He eats his pie, it's apple and warm, but he barely tastes it. He hated Tyler and Eric before this; now he's furious. They made him look like a schmuck in front of Bella. He watches her out of the corner of his eye. She's smiling again but it looks forced to him, maybe because he knows what just happened. He hears the familiar jingle of the news starting and looks up at the old black and white hanging from the ceiling.

Bella makes her way back to Edward. She reaches up as she passes the TV and flips the channel to a soap opera. She checks Edward's coffee cup and gets his bill ready because she knows he has to get back to work soon. She's trying to compose herself, get back to saucy and sweet. She tosses her head to make her ponytail fly and knows she'll have to cut her hair soon. Before she starts her next job.

"Bella, give me the bills, please? I'll pay, it's no big deal." She's shaking her head before he's finished talking. Edward feels frustrated. He wants to do this one small thing for her.

"No way. In fact," she looks around to see if she's observed. "I don't know what you're talking about." She rips the bills into tiny pieces and tosses them into the trash. "Why were you with them anyway? They friends of yours?" She doubts it but she waits to see what Edward says. She's pissed with herself; she shouldn't get involved but there's something about this kid. She wishes things were different.

"Um, definitely not." Edward snorts and shakes his head. "Where are you from?" he blurts out. He wants to change the subject and he really wants to know. He wants to be able to picture where she grew up. She's looking away, checking on the other customers and he takes the chance to really look at her.

She's lovely, for all the toughness she puts on. Her skin is cream and roses and her hair dark and lush. It's up in a ponytail and her neck is slender, delicate. He wonders what it would feel like to kiss her neck.

"Texas," she answers. It takes him a moment to remember the question. He frowns and then smiles. There's the smile she's been waiting for.

"Hmm where's your accent?" he teases. Now Bella frowns. This is bad. She said the wrong thing, that's not where she's from when she's here. She's quick on her feet though.

"You don't hear an accent? Well, I have been travelling a fair deal the past couple of years. Suppose I must've lost it along the way." She winks and moves off. She has to be more careful. He's still smiling as he finishes the pie. Poor Edward would probably believe anything she told him.

* * *

><p><em>Prompt to post: recover = cover up a lie, back track from a lie. "Nothing but a pack of lies" instantly brought up this pair. Bella lies so many lies. LOL Someone should tell her that lieswillsendyoutohell<em>


	15. WitFit Oct 19 Confess

WitFit Oct 19

Word Prompts: Confess, repress, duress

Choose one word and write what your imagination dictates. For an added challenge, include all three words in your entry.

_I don't own Twilight. This is the same Edward and Bella from Advice/Ceremony/Agreed and it immediately follows __Advice._

* * *

><p>"<em>You're not going to go all moonlight and roses are you Edward? It's just sex."<em>

That's what she thinks. And that's when I know that I can't do this. Not like this.

This is so much more than 'just sex' to me.

I press my forehead to hers. Our breathing matches, heavy and harsh. I try to find the will to stop because my body is still pressed to hers and Bella's hips are rolling and I can feel the heat of her low down. My head, both of them in fact, are not getting the message because I'm still on top of her. I'm suddenly very afraid I could do this by accident.

I extricate myself slowly, I know her and I know she's going to take this as a rejection. I kiss her forehead as I roll off her. Bella's eyes are confused. I slide off the bed and I kneel on the floor beside it. I lean forward and kiss her shoulder because I have to. Bella's eyes look hurt and I feel like a coward.

I try to be matter of fact as I stand and pull on my boxer briefs, turning my back to hide what she's already felt rubbed all over her. Fuck, I have to think about something else. My gitch is cold from lying on the floor but it isn't helping. I pull on my jeans and shirt and go to sit on the edge of Bella's bed but I can't. I'm still too tempted. It's torture, it hurts, actual physical pain and I gasp at it when realize I've been holding my breath.

I back away from the bed and Bella. I need a little distance. Part of me wants to run, I'm gonna need some alone time real soon, but I know we have to talk first. I can't quite look at her and I don't know what to do with myself. Lean against a wall? Straddle her desk chair backward and act really casual about the whole thing?

_Listen Bella, I'm not going to have sex with you today because I love you... _

I settle on the rocking chair, I try to picture Renee rocking a baby Bella and that helps the pressure in my pants. My head clears a little too. I brace myself for Bella's anger and cringe from the thought that I've just become the male equivalent of a cock tease. She surprises me though. She always does.

"Are you mad at me?" Bella asks. Her voice is kind of small and I want to go to her but then I remember that she's still naked under that thin white sheet. I grip the arms of the rocking chair.

"No. God, no." My voice sounds rough in my ears. Why would I be mad?

"You don't want to though..." She trails off and the only thing stopping me from going to her is the thought of wrecking everything before we even have a real chance. She goes on. "Is it... do you... I mean, I know I don't have like, boobs or anything but..." I groan, literally groan, and put my head in my hands.

"Jesus, Bella. Please don't make me tell you how beautiful you are," I say. She giggles and I look up.

The sun streaming through the window lights up the dust motes and it looks like Bella is on the other side of a glittery curtain. She's curled up on her side, sheet pulled up to her chin, her hair a tangled, dark splash on the pillow. I want to tell her she's beautiful and I love her and I want so much more than just sex with her.

She's leaving tomorrow. I can't tell her. She sighs but she's smiling and turns to bury her face into the pillow. She mumbles something I can't make out.

"What?" I ask. I'm the type to get sick on boats and planes and I feel like that now. I want Gravol.

She rolls onto her back and I keep an eye on the sheet. I can see parts of her through it.

"I said, 'It's so embarrassing'," she says as she throws an arm over her eyes. At first, I think she means me saying no to her but she goes on and I deflate fully. "I never thought I'd be going to college still a virgin. It's mortifying."

That's my Bella. Little Miss Type A. This had nothing to do with me. I'm discreet and not unattractive.

"Bella," I want her to look at me. I need to see her eyes. Her arm flops down and she meets my eye and again her expression doesn't match her words. It has to be me though. I'm seeing what I want to see. "This isn't exactly something you're supposed check off a list." I laugh a little. Thank God I didn't tell her. "Was this an entry requirement for NYU?" I pitch my voice high. "Please do not bring your virginity to campus. All students must arrive properly deflowered." She throws a pillow at me. We're both laughing now but then I think of something.

She's leaving tomorrow. For whatever reason, she thinks she needs to do this.

What if she finds someone else who will do what she wants?

I mean, what sort of moron would turn _her_ down?

I am such a fucking moron.

"You weren't planning on making this offer to anyone else, were you?" I ask. I feel sick. She looks offended. Great. Now I've insulted her _and_ given her the idea. I backtrack. "Okay. Listen. You have to know that I want to..." I can be cool too but I still have to clear my throat before I go on. "I mean, look at you." I very deliberately look her over and she blushes. "How long have you been thinking about this?" I ask.

"I thought about it this summer," she says. We spent a lot of time together this summer.

"Right. So you've been mulling this over, thinking it through for weeks. You just sprung it on me, Bella. And I still don't understand you're reasoning." She opens her mouth to respond but I keep going. "It's flawed and you know it." She's looking out the window but I can tell she's listening. I echo her earlier question. "Are _you_ mad at _me_?" She shakes her head and I'm so relieved I forget to feel sick and some blood is finally reaching my brain. What Bella and I need is time. I know Bella and even when she's impatient... she's patient.

"Not today, Bella, not like this. But not never. If you want me to be the one, if you want it to be no big deal... I'll do it. Just not today." I look at her and I can't help it, I'm thinking about it and it must show on my face. She's looking back at me and it's like I never left the bed, we're right back at that moment. She shifts under the sheet and it almost kills me. I know she's remembering what it felt like when I was on top of her.

I drop my head against the back of the chair. "Bella, please stop squirming around like that. I'm trying to do the right thing here." She stops, I don't think she even realized she was doing it.

I have to leave and I tell her so.

"When?" she asks as I stand.

"Now," I say. I need to go home and violate my shower. She laughs and the sheet isn't doing its job. I walk over and pick up her purple comforter. Her clothes are in a pile on the floor and I flashback to that innocent strip tease of hers. I'm going to end up violating my car. I cover her with the comforter, the room is cool but it's not all for her sake.

"When are we going to do the deed, Cullen? You can't expect to get away with being vague with _me_." Damn, the comforter has made her brave. I pull a face. How the hell am I supposed to answer this?

"Next summer?" I offer. I'm already considering switching schools. I'm half-tempted to get her drunk and take her to Vegas. I've seriously lost my mind for this girl and she's treating me like a fucking gigolo.

"That's too long," Bella practically whines.

I blow out a breath and try again. "Spring Break?" I am fully aware of how insane this conversation is. Bella's grinning so I think she's on the same page. I put on my serious face. "We can meet up in Lauderdale and if you win a wet tshirt contest I'll bang you on the beach!" Bella throws another pillow at me. I duck and it lands on her dresser. I notice her room for the first time; it's all packed up, empty looking.

She's leaving tomorrow.

"Thanksgiving," she counters.

I shake my head. There's a good chance that after we do this she's going to drift out of my life. I need more time. I need time to figure out how to make sure that doesn't happen. My heart is in my throat and I struggle to keep this as light as Bella seems to want it.

"Christmas." Our eyes meet and I feel myself smirking. The guy side of me has reared its head, again both of them, and likes that Bella looks happy about this plan. I feel cocky. Literally. "It'll be your gift."

I have to go before things get intense again. I don't know whether I'm supposed to kiss her or shake her hand... I decide not to risk any contact and open the door but I'm not ready to say goodbye. I hear myself ask if I can take her to the airport tomorrow. She looks surprised.

"That's such a long drive... but yeah... only if you're sure. You really want to?" She looks pleased and I'm glad I asked.

I look at Bella in her bed. "Believe me. I want to."

* * *

><p><em>I really like using Twilight lines. LOL Sorry about that last one, I wanted to use it in the actual chap but that it would be too jarring during the actual convo so I used it at the end. <em>_ Prompt to post: Confess, repress, duress. I didn't use the actual words, just the spirit of them. He thinks of confessing his feelings, he's repressing his feelings, he's agreeing to shag Bella kind of under duress etc. Funny coincidence; the last time the "three word" prompt came up I thought of these guys too. Interesting... _


	16. WitFit Oct 20 Rush

Wit Fit Oct 20

Word Prompt: Rush

Audio-Visual Challenge—Imagined Image:

View the image and write what comes to you.==============================

_**Here's the link to the photo prompt**_ http:/www(dot)fictionistaworkshop(dot)com/wp-content/uploads/2011/10/IMG_

_Unbeta'd. I didn't "see" the prompt photo properly (try to say that five times fast). Pity, because I would have done something completely different. Boo._

* * *

><p>"Here you go, Mrs Collins."<p>

The realtor dropped the keys into her hand with a small flourish. Jeremy Martin was shortish, loud and paunchy but he thought of himself as a bit of a stud in the real estate world. He gave Mrs Collins his "you know you want me" smile and looked her up and down. He usually went for blondes but this brunette was cute for her age. He lingered, hoping for an invitation inside.

Lily accepted the keys. She wanted to tell him she was going back to her maiden name – soon she would be plain, old, Lily Mitchell again – emphasis on the _old_. She thought better of it though. He'd been inappropriately flirtatious since she first looked at this house a week ago and bringing up her newly single status again would just encourage him. Lily felt naked without her wedding rings. Without them she'd become some sort of loser magnet. Since when did 'divorced' equal 'desperate'?

"Thank you," she answered. Lily broke off eye contact and hoped he'd read the dismissal in it. Everything had been signed back at the office, there was no reason for him to be there anymore. "Boys!" she called. She knew they wouldn't go very far. Kyle especially was protective of her since everything had happened.

A moment later, the boys rounded the corner of the dilapidated clubhouse at the front of the property. Lily smiled at the sight of them, they reminded her of puppies with their legs gambolling as they ran to meet her on the porch of their new home. She prompted them to say good bye to Mr Martin and he finally took the hint, lumbering down the steps and driving off with a wave, calling out some nonsense about his being available for _anything _she might need.

Lily pulled her boys close to her, one on each side. They were up to her shoulders now, Luke maybe an inch taller than his younger twin. "All right guys, time to explore. Where should we start? The house..."

"The barn!" the boys yelled in tandem and took off, leaping the three steps of the porch in one bound, their matching red heads lighting up as the sun touched them . Lily laughed and followed at a slower pace. She paused mid-step; she'd just laughed. A real laugh. In the past four months, every laugh of hers had been forced, fake, for the benefit of others; for her children or for her parents. Even for Derek. Derek, who had begged her for a quickie divorce so he could marry his pregnant mistress. Lily knew she'd been numb, in shock, for most of the past few months. Everything had happened so fast, sometimes she still woke thinking it hadn't happened at all. Laughing, really laughing, felt good.

It was the house. The charming little house and the property were something she'd dreamed of for years. Derek was more of a suburban, cookie-cutter house type. This was the first chance she'd ever had to choose her own home. She rounded the back corner of the tiny yellow-bricked cottage and looked at what she'd purchased with Derek's guilt-inflated divorce settlement.

There was a mostly intact greenhouse to the left in front of a huge garden area. Everything was overgrown and neglected; the property had been a bargain after being vacant for over 10 years. Lily had had a maintenance and cleaning crew go through the house to make sure it would be inhabitable for the boys but the rest of it she would tackle herself. She felt a frisson of excitement; there was so much to do. She wouldn't have to think for a very long time.

A huge old barn, decrepit and streaked with the last of its original red paint, dominated the back quarter of the lot. She ran the rest of the way to it to see what Kyle and Luke had gotten up to. The grass had been cut and smelled wonderful under the mid-summer sun, fresh and clean. It was easier to breathe out here, far away from the cookie-cutter house full of memories.

The boys had left the huge double doors open and disappeared into the labyrinth of the past owners' detritus. There was tons of old machinery, the odd piece of covered furniture and heaps of trunks and crates. Lily couldn't wait to go through it all; it would be so much easier to deal with someone else's past than her own. The barn was the real reason she'd bought the property. Old barns were a crazy thing to love but she did. She loved the way you could feel the history of them, the life that had happened within their walls. Sometimes, in certain barns, Lily felt like the past was waiting for her – not that she believed in that sort of thing –and if she could only listen carefully enough the barn would tell her a secret.

She walked through the centre aisle, the only clear floor in the space and looked up to the century old beams and haylofts. Lily couldn't believe the roof had held all these years. The light was dim, even with the doors open, and the air inside cooler and tinged with the slight scent of the animals that had lived there long ago. Kyle and Luke wanted chickens and a pig – and they'd have them - but Lily had to say no to a horse; she was afraid of horses.

She put her hands on her hips and turned in a circle. The possibilities were endless. Depending on what she unearthed from the piles she could have a small antiques shop. She could specialize in a few crops – become a 'boutique farmer' – and sell them at markets or have a stand here. A river, wide and deep enough for canoeing, ran through the back of her property. She liked the sound of that. _Her_ property. Maybe she could refurbish the barn into rooms have a small B & B and offer boating packages.

It was all her decision.

For the very first time since Derek had told her what he'd done and what he was going to do she felt like she'd be okay. It was all in how Lily chose to look at it. Maybe he hadn't left her. Maybe he'd set her free.

* * *

><p><em>Prompt to post: Rush made me think of haste, plus the band Rush which reminded me of my husband. I thought the pic was a barn wall and I LOVE barns. Alas, I think it is in fact a telephone post with the nails and staples from old notices. Boo. <em>


	17. WitFit Oct 21 Flourish

Wit Fit Oct 21

Word Prompt: Flourish

Dialogue Flex: "I have no idea where I'm going," he said.

Using the provided snippet of dialogue, explore what comes to mind, be it a scene, a thought, or something else.

_I don't own Twilight. Unbeta'd for your brain crying pleasure. For real, don't read this, I posted only as a commitment I made to myself. Having to unleash this into the world is like penance. "As Rob as my witness, I will never procrastinate again!" _

* * *

><p>DAY 1<p>

I can't believe I let Bella talk me into this.

We're on a boat, skimming across the clear, warm waters of the Indian Ocean, on our way to one of the smaller islands of the Seychelles. The sky is a brilliant blue, the breeze briny and refreshing.

Why, you ask, am I thinking of jumping out and swimming home? Well...

Months ago, when Bella asked me to try out for a reality TV show with her, I figured there wasn't a snowball's chance in Hell either of us would get chosen. The audition process was ridiculous and I was a clown the whole way through it. I didn't take _any _of it seriously. Unfortunately they seemed to like that about me. And once they found out Bella and I were together we were both selected. So now, Bella could only get on the show if I went. Although, when I thought about it, I didn't really want her running around an island half-naked without me.

So here we are.

Bella and I sit across from each other, not speaking. To be fair, no one is speaking because the producers have told all of us not to talk to each other until the game officially begins. But it's weird. Bella is hardly looking at me because our "strategy" is to pretend we're just regular contestants – not a couple – so we can divide and conquer. Whatever that means. I look around at the competition.

There is a man who looks like he walked straight out of the Appalachians and onto the plane back in the U.S. There is a woman I'm pretty sure I recognize from a soap opera my mom used to watch when I was a kid. There are older people and younger people. Some of them are looking around in interest, some are trying to look bored. A few look terrified.

I'm pretty sure that's the look on my face.

I don't particularly like the show to start with. And I'm more of an "inside" person. I like Egyptian cotton on my bed and Bella naked in it. I like my books and my gadgets and keeping up with the news. I like showers and designer suits. Here? No change of clothes – I've gotten around this by wearing unnecessary layers – and I've been sweating since I got off the plane. They don't even let us bring floss with us. Although, once they told us where this "edition" of Survivor would be, I researched the area. I know I can clean my teeth with twigs, that we cannot eat the tortoises of these islands and that there is an indigenous, coconut type, fruit called 'love nuts'- really they look like vajayjays- but you can't eat those either.

I'm counting on Bella to start the fire, organize the shelter and make sure there's enough clean drinking water. I don't function well if I'm not adequately hydrated. I'll get a read on the other contestants and tell her who we should form an alliance with.

Our gracious host, Jeff, makes his way to the front of the boat and holds a small, roughly decorated bag up in the air for all to see. Everything is such a production with this guy.

"Survivors!" Everyone is already looking at him but he waits a beat to make sure he has our full attention. I'm self-conscious of the cameras; one gets right in Bella's face but she keeps on looking at Jeff. They've told us to pretend they're not there unless we're doing a "confessional". Like I'm going to confess anything to them.

Jeff goes on. "_Each_ of you is going to _reach_ into _this bag_ and pull out _one _stone." One of the younger guys snickers and I suppress an eyeroll. I have to live with these people? Jeff walks around and everyone gets their stone and waits with it in their closed fist. "There are _two_ coloured stones –one _purple_, one _green_. _Two of you _have these in the palm of your hand _right now_. The _two people_ with the purple and green stones will become _team captains_ and will take turns selecting the members _of their tribes_. We're all clear?" There's a chorus of muttered yeses and yeps. "_Survivors._.. _reveal_ your stone!"

I look in my hand and see a plain old stone. Figures. Bella and Appalachian guy have both held their hands up and I'm relieved; thank God Bella is a captain. We can really grab a hold of this game right from the beginning.

Jeff instructs us to line up in front of the captains. Appalachian guys chooses first and selects one of the younger, muscle-bound guys. I look at Bella and try to keep myself from smiling. Even if I have to pretend I don't know her at least I'll be standing beside her in a few seconds. Bella's eyes flick to mine and away quickly. I know what she's thinking... it's going to be hard to act like strangers. I mean, she's beautiful, I could reasonably flirt with her and it would be a very natural thing. I'm still trying to work out how we're going to sneak a little "couple time" into this island adventure when Bella makes her selection.

"You there, I'm sorry I didn't get your name..." Bella is pointing to a tall, strong-looking girl in a red shirt. I know she's trying to be careful about seeming eager about me but this is a real gamble she's taking. I could be chosen next and then...

Appalachian guy picks a girl with multiple piercings and dreadlocks. Phew. Okay, Bella. Enough with the games...

She doesn't even look at me this time. Her voice is even and measured. No hesitation.

"You there in the green plaid shirt."

I am wearing a blue suit.

Appalachian guy looks me up and down and I feel like an animal at a stock yard. He nods to himself.

"You there, Mr Wall Street."

I fucking hate this game.

* * *

><p><em>Prompt to post: I flashed straight to a scene from survivor with this prompt, getting lost finding the site or water source, the idol and rewards are always presented with a flourish. <em>

_ The Seychelles are cool. I want to go to there. _


	18. WitFit Oct 24 Intercept

WitFit Oct 24

Word Prompt: Intercept

Plot Generator—Binding Blurb: In 500 words or fewer, write a blurb or a short entry on **risky behaviour**.

_I don't own Twilight. Unbeta'd and it's supposed read like a real email so I literally typed and left it. _

* * *

><p>Bella,<p>

Phil and I just got home. I can't believe you hung up on me like that! I almost called right back, I mean, we're talking about boys, you've obviously met someone AND HAVEN'T TOLD ME! You know how much I miss you, you can't hold back on me now. Then I thought, we were talking about you being safe and you hung up on me (seriously baby don't ever do that again) and I almost called Charlie to check on you. But then I thought maybe you had this mystery boy in your room (I don't know why, I just had a feeling. I know, I know, you are very responsible. I guess it's just the sort of thing I would have done) and I didn't want Charlie to have a heart attack if he found you like that. Plus, Charlie has a gun. Oh my God can you imagine?

Please tell me you're being safe. I hate that you're so far away, you never went out with anyone back in Phoenix and the second you get to Forks (Forks!) you meet someone and don't tell me! It feels like history repeating, you know, I don't want you to make the same mistakes I did, not that I'm saying you were a mistake, you're the best thing that ever happened to me. I think you know what I mean.

So, when you get this email, you will tell me EVERYTHING. There is no detail too small Bella, I want to hear everything. This is so exciting. Try to take a picture with your phone, I have to see him. Just be careful with your heart baby, and you know you have to play a little bit of hard to get, don't think of it as playing games, you have to let them chase you. Men just seem to like the hunt that's all.

Okay, Phil is out of the shower and calling for me. He says hi and asked if you liked that CD he gave you? You never really talked about it and he wonders if you like that band. I can't wait for you to visit us here, you'll love it. Okay, really have to go. You email me soon or I will call Charlie and tell him you met a boy. Ha! Now I know I'll get a really long, detailed email.

I love and miss you baby,

Mom

* * *

><p><em>Prompt to post: I don't know why but risky behaviour led me right to sex. Hahaha Intercept is used in two ways; Edward has intercepted their phone call and Renee considers having Charlie intercept Bella (in terms of her feelings – she really doesn't want Bella and mystery boy to get caught. To write this I watched the clip of Bella and her mom talking, paused the movie (torture!) and wrote this thinking about her mom standing there with her phone going WTF? Lol<em>


	19. WitFit Oct 25 Young

WitFit Oct 25

Word Prompt: Young

Dialogue Flex: "Would it help if I tried?" she asked.

Using the provided snippet of dialogue, explore what comes to mind, be it a scene, a thought, or something else.

_I don't own Twilight. These are the same characters as Stomp and Recover(aka Dinerward/Dinerella) but I've switched back to the first person pov. Heavy M warning on this one. Sexy times with a dark and disturbing Bella. I don't know what's wrong with me. _

* * *

><p>Edward's car is a piece of shit but it's warm and the seat is comfortable. I sink into it and feel the adrenaline that had flooded my system start to seep away. He's turned the radio to the local rock station but kept the volume low. I guess he wants to talk but I don't know what to say. I don't really want to talk at all.<p>

I've manipulated this drive home. I watch Edward from the corner of my eye and feel bad about the tension in his jaw and the death grip his hands have on the steering wheel.

He looks at me and the concern in his eyes pisses me off. It's misplaced and I can't tell him.

"Are you sure you're okay?" His voice is so fucking appealing that I almost hate him for a second. But I don't hate him, although it would be easier if I did. He's looking back and forth between me and the empty, dark road we're driving on, waiting for my answer.

"Yeah, I'm fine." I try to look fragile, shaken. It's actually pretty easy because this beautiful boy has me completely flustered. "This is me here, on the left." I point to the old building where I've taken an apartment. It's show time and I find I don't need to act nervous; I am nervous. "Want to come up?"

I've startled him and he looks like he wants to but feels like he shouldn't. "Really?" he asks. I shift closer to him, put my hand on his thigh and my lips to his ear.

"Please? I don't want to be alone." I kiss the sweet spot right below his ear and give that beautiful thigh a squeeze. Then I stroke my way up and let my fingers brush the bulge in his jeans. Edward sucks in a breath. I want to make him do that again. "Please?" I whisper against his neck. I can feel him nod.

"Sure, Bella. Anything." He takes one hand off the wheel and puts it around my shoulder. It feels nice, so normal, and I look up at him. I get warm thinking about what we're going to do.

He's nodding to himself and I'd give anything to be able to read his mind.

He parks between two even shittier cars. We wind our way through the small lot and when I grab his hand he smiles at me and gives it a squeeze. We both blink at the harsh fluorescent lighting in the dingy entry way. Edward has to let go of me as I fish in my coat pocket for my keys but I can feel him staring at me. Like he's trying to read _my_ mind.

The elevator is out of service so we walk up the three flights. The stairwell is narrow and Edward is forced to follow me. I put a little more swing in my hips, unnecessary I know, but I almost can't help myself. His breath is coming a little heavier already – he's fit, it's not the stairs. I understand because I feel the same way, the anticipation is almost painful. When it comes to him, I just want.

We reach my apartment and he's standing so close I can feel the heat of him as I unlock the door. Two steps and I'm grateful to put a closed door between us and the rest of the world. I turn on a light, shrug out of my coat and toss it on the couch. I turn to him, he's still standing by the door, and tilt my face up. I've been in this exact position with dozens of different men but this time I'm not acting. I want him to kiss me. I think I _need_ him to kiss me. His green eyes are blazing at me and I want to let myself get lost in them.

Edward touches my hair, it's such a tender thing to do, and I know if I had a heart he'd break it. He leans down and his lips are on mine.

It's soft and sweet, he holds my face in his hands and kisses my lips and my cheeks and my nose. I grab at his shirt to pull him closer, I can feel the strength of him through the fabric. Our tongues touch and suddenly the kiss isn't quite so sweet anymore. Our lips crash together over and over, he tastes like beer and mint and he's so warm as we kiss and gasp and grope. It's Edward though, so after a minute or two, he kisses my forehead and pulls back, dropping his hands from my face. The back of his head makes a small thunking sound against the door. We're both breathing heavy.

"Bella, I don't expect you to... don't you think we should talk? What happened back there... should we call the police?" I'm shushing him before he's done. I want more. He's like crack or meth or something. One hit and I'm hooked. Because I'm not acting this time.

"I don't want to talk," I say. "I want to forget about all that, it never happened. Help me forget, Edward." I go on tiptoe, he's so tall I can't make him kiss me. He groans - it's a surrender – and leans back down. I worry briefly about his neck getting sore but then we're kissing again and I forget to worry.

We stumble the few feet to my bedroom and I'm unbuttoning his shirt as we go. I'm dying to see what I just felt and when we get to my bed I pause to switch on the lamp. God, he's fucking beautiful, cut and lean, and if it weren't for that sexy smattering of chest hair he'd look like one of those statues rich people have in their gardens. Edward shrugs out of his shirt and I lean forward to kiss his chest, flick my tongue on his nipple, rake my nails through the hair trailing lower down and disappearing into his jeans. He's a groaner, which I find kind of annoying with other guys but not Edward. Each of Edward's groans hits me right between the legs.

Edward's working on the buttons of my fugly uniform and for one second I think of how I'm going to smell after an eight hour shift wrapped in polyester. Then my uniform is gone and my bra is gone and Edward's hot mouth is devouring one of my tits while he plays with the other one. My legs actually buckle and he stops, supporting me with an arm around my waist. His hair tickles my cheek as he sucks on my neck and grinds himself into me. I gasp from the heat of him, the strength of him and the pleasant surprise: it's always the quiet ones.

I reach for the button of his jeans and undo them. I murmur for him to sit and we spend a moment getting the jeans and the boxer briefs off and out of the way. Jesus Christ. It seems unfair for one man to have that face and that body and then this gorgeous cock too. I kneel on the floor between his legs and mentally introduce myself.

"_Hello beautiful. Where have you been all my life?" _

Edward looks torn, like he feels like he should stop me but probably won't be able to make himself. "You don't have to..." he says. I lick the length of him and he doesn't say another word but he does pluck a pillow from the bed and drops it on the floor for me to kneel on. I'm touched and that is such an unusual feeling for me. I want to make him feel good. I lick him again, swirl my tongue around the tip and take the journey a few more times. My hands are on his thighs, squeezing and stroking. I am drunk on Edward's sounds, he gasps and hmms until I take him into my mouth. Then he moans, loud and deep, and I echo it because I feel like I'm feeling what he's feeling. His skin is smooth against my lips and I open my throat to take as much of him as I can. I move up and down, suck and lick and kiss the beautiful cock of the beautiful man.

I look up, expecting to see his eyes closed, his head thrown back, but he's looking at me. He's looking at me and I know no man has ever looked at me like that. It's lustful sure, but there's more, amazement, adoration. One of his hands weaves into my hair, not coaxing me to move faster or slower, just there, massaging, caressing. Our eyes lock, he watches as l move up and down and he says my name and I think I could come just from this.

His hips are rocking in time with me. Each time I breathe I take him in, musk and salt and this sweet man. His thumb strokes my cheek, then his hand drops and his head falls back and he's begging me to stop because he's going to come. I'm confused, I'm thinking "isn't that the point?" when I realize he doesn't want to come in my mouth and I stop because he asked me to and I use my hand to pump him and, because I feel like I can feel what he's feeling, I cry out with him as he comes.

Edward falls back and I crawl up onto the bed and look at the beautiful mess he's made. He's panting and twitching and I'm proud that I could do this one nice thing for him. I breathe deep and his breathing slows until it matches mine. He's sheepish when he looks at me but his green eyes are sparkling. Happy and mischievous.

"I'm, uh, gonna need to clean up or something." I hand him the towel that was beside the bed because there is always a mess. He mops at himself but stops when I start to get up. "Hey," he whispers. "Where you going?" He pulls me down and puts his arm around me. I feel his lips on my hair. Again, I'm confused. He's done. When they're done they usually want to leave.

But this is Edward. I should have known.

"Lie down, Bella. It's your turn."

* * *

><p><em>Prompt to post: Young. Well, let me tell you. I said the word to myself and the Triumph song Magic Power popped into my head "She's young now, she's wild now, she wants to be free". Boom! This Bella got stuck in my head. The dialogue flex made my head hurt so I didn't use it but it might have seeped. I've written lemons before but they've always been "nice" ones and I've never written a full blown (snicker) BJ before so it was nice to cross that off the bucket list. I think one person who reads this will also know what other inspiration I may have tapped. ;)<em>


	20. WitFit Oct 26 Tick

WitFit Oct 26

Word Prompts: Tick sick wick

_I don't own Twilight. Same characters as Notice, the creepy guy in the castle and the jumpy maid. ;)_

* * *

><p>Isabella assembled the tray with an air of suppressed bitterness. The master had been away the past few weeks and life in the dark castle had taken on the feel of a holiday – not that she'd ever been away on a holiday herself. She thought about the passage of time: how the hours and days had flown by so quickly in the master's absence and then slowed to a near standstill upon his return. She sighed deeply and hoped he would travel more often. The oppressiveness of his presence was as heavy as an ox's yoke. She willed herself brave and strong enough to bear it.<p>

Edward sat in the library, smiling to himself. His trip had been a tremendous success. He could hear the little maid, the troublesome little thing who had turned into his raison d'être, fumbling around in the kitchen. Edward breathed and licked his lips thinking of all he'd learned in Italy and how much it would change the next years of his existence. The sweet, heady scent of the girl –Isabella, he must remember to use her name – permeated the library. He could picture her bustling through, dusting and readying the room for him, but it was a hazy vision. Edward hadn't ever looked at her face. Once the tantalizing call of her blood had hit him on her first day in the castle, he had limited her time in his presence to this one small task.

Isabella straightened her cap and apron, picked up her tray and set out for the library. She thought perhaps her mind had played tricks on her; perhaps the master wasn't as terrifying as she had thought. She remembered her fellow servants then. Their demeanours had changed as quickly as hers when the dark, menacing shape of him rode up to the house this morning. They'd all scattered like frightened chickens and the holiday from the tension had come to an abrupt end. A litany of unchristian thoughts against the master shocked the young maid and she almost paused to cross herself but thought better of it. She could best protect herself by completing her task quickly.

Edward composed himself – her blood, as they'd told him in Italy did indeed sing to him. How had he not noticed before? He had been too irritated by the strength of his reaction to her and the strength it took to wait for his inquiry into her connections to be complete. He was profoundly grateful for what now seemed like a small delay and swallowed in reaction to his thoughts. He could have drained her, so easily. One long, drink, the best blood he had ever encountered, but done, over. Dead. He had come so close to killing her.

The girl – Isabella – placed the tray on the table and poured out the single glass. Edward fixed a small, benevolent smile on his face and turned in his chair to look her.

"Thank you, Isabella," he said, his voice low and soft. He no longer wished to frighten her or have her at arm's length. "I'd like you to join me tonight. Please, won't you sit down?" He motioned to the matching armchair across from his and tilted his head to the side. It had been a while since he'd tried to charm a human. Even in the dim light of fire and candle he could see her blanch and feel her fear. It was almost tangible and he sighed. "Please? Returning from visiting my... relations... in Italy has reminded me how lonely I am here, how isolated we all are. Let's get acquainted. I'm afraid I was very rude before."

Isabella walked around and sat on the chair, smoothing her skirt and clasping her hands in her lap. She sat, not because she wanted to, but because she must do as she was bid here. There was something more that she couldn't quite place. She felt compelled, against her will. She wasn't as much complying as she was incapable of resisting. She looked at the master and felt warmer than could be explained by the fire. When he smiled that gentle smile and spoke pleasantly it was easier to see what a handsome, young man he was.

Edward felt the heat of her change and smelled her reaction to him. He motioned to the single glass of wine. "Please, be my guest." Isabella half-rose from her chair, ostensibly to fetch another glass but he waved his hand and met her eye. He willed her to sit back down and she did. "I'm not in the mood for wine, I'll get my own drink tonight." Edward stood and went to the sideboard, pouring a measure of deep amber whiskey into a small glass. As he returned to his seat, he saw Isabella had taken up the wine and was having a sip. He watched her neck as she swallowed.

"Tell me where you're from?" Edward asked. He leaned forward again until she met his eye and she began to speak, slowly and haltingly at first.

"Kent, near the sea. I miss it so... oh but it's lovely here too," she hastened, before burying her nose into the wine goblet. Edward looked at her more closely.

She was small, but not unwomanly in her figure. Her hair and eyes were dark, almost black in the low light. Edward thought of the word 'sweet': she appeared as sweet as her blood smelled, dainty and feminine and beguiling in her innocence.

"And there is no sweetheart there, waiting your return?" Edward asked. He knew there was not. His inquiry into Isabella Swan's former life was complete. She was quite alone in the world. He waited to see if he would hear the truth or if her sweetness was marred by dishonesty. He turned his glass of whiskey round in his hands.

He underestimated the power of his thrall. Isabella could no sooner lie to him than fly away from the castle on the night air. She shook her head, no, there was no sweetheart for her, and watched the strange, young master's hypnotic hands on his glass. She realized she was staring and took another sip of wine. It was the best she'd ever tasted and she was finding it difficult to sip and make it last.

Edward noted the level of her wine and took the glass from her to pour more. It struck Isabella funny; how strange to see the master serve _her_ and she giggled at the absurdity of it. He looked up at her through his lashes and handed back her full glass. "Share your joke?" he asked, and Isabella could swear he was flirting her.

Isabella sobered, slightly, and tried to consider the situation but quickly forgot to be upset. "How absurd for you to serve me!" she blurted out. Edward laughed, threw his head back and laughed, and she laughed along with him.

"Oh, I have been intolerably miserable these past few months. You've never seen me in a good mood, have you?" Shame. I can be quite good company when I put my mind to it." They both shook as the laugh rippled through them. "You must call me Edward," he insisted. She shook her head – imagine what the others would think should she call him 'Edward' - and he amended. "In this room, when we socialize, I insist on you calling me Edward." His voice seemed to slide over the bare skin of her arms. She nodded as he held her gaze. She was warm with laughter and wine and couldn't look away from his eyes. They were dancing with the light from the fire. "In this room, at this time each day, we shall be friends to one another. It really is too lonely here."

"Fine," she allowed. "But you must call me Isabella." She giggled again. Absurd. "I suppose you can call me whatever you want..."

Edward was surprised to find how amusing this diversion was. Perhaps he had been a little lonely. But the sweet, little maid was tipsy and he suggested the evening come to an end. Now that he knew he would have her the waiting was almost pleasurable.

Isabella stumbled in the doorway of the library and Edward was there, faster than seemed right but she'd finished the second glass of wine too quickly and knew she wasn't thinking straight. His arm went around her waist. "I'll help you up to your room, Isabella," he said. His voice seemed like a purr in her ear. "We wouldn't want you to fall down the stairs and break that pretty little neck of yours."

She shivered, his touch was cold and the words, to her fuzzy mind, sounded portentous.

Edward liked her shivering against him, the siren call of her scent was his own form of intoxication but her body was arousing other desires as well. He guided her to her room and, thanked her for her company. They gazed at each other for a moment over the candle Edward held and it would have been difficult for an outsider to tell who was under the thrall of whom.

"Good night, Isabella," Edward said, and left hastily. One desire was unexpectedly more pressing than the other and he felt he needed to leave her be.

Isabella rushed through her nightly routine, putting her happy confusion aside to examine in the cold light of morning. She brushed and braided her hair and cleaned her face before changing into her nightgown. The covers were cold and she shivered until her body warmed the bed. She had almost drifted off when some sensible part of her mind asked a question Isabella couldn't answer.

Why would a man such as Edward choose to live by himself in this crumbling, isolated castle if he didn't like being alone?

* * *

><p><em>Prompt to post: Tick, sick, wick instantly brought me to these two and the castle. Ticking of a grandfather clock, the passing of time, candle wicks, sick... what? Vampires are sick... lol I know this sort of old-fashioned story isn't to everyone's taste but I really liked writing it, tapping into the Diana Gabaldon part of my brain. :) There is certainly some Jane Eyre influence too. Good times.<em>


	21. WitFit Oct 28 Shock

WitFit Oct 28

Word Prompt: Shock

Plot Generator—Phrase Catch: Don't get carried away.

Repeat the phrase to yourself five times, open a blank word document and begin.

_I don't own Twilight. These are the same characters as Premium, the scary birth story. _

* * *

><p>"Where dat, Daddy?" Chloe jabbed a pudgy finger toward my laptop screen. We were tracking Santa's progress on NORAD and, although Chloe was exceptionally bright for being not-quite-three, reading the word 'Kazakhstan' was a little beyond her.<p>

"That is Kazakhstan, it's part of Europe, see?" I took her little hand in mine and showed her. "Oh no!" I said, and she jumped in my lap.

"What?" She twisted around and looked at me with the same big brown eyes as her mother. I put on my pretend worried face.

"Well, Santa's getting closer to our house. What would happen if he found you awake when he got here?" Her nose wrinkled for a second as she thought and then her mouth popped into a little 'o' shape as she remembered.

"No pwesents," she said. I nodded sagely at her. Chloe patted my cheek and wiggled to get down. "I gotta go to bed. C'mon, Daddy!" I didn't let her down but stood up with her instead and she wrapped her arms around my neck. She burrowed into my neck – she _was_ tired – and babbled about stockings and cookies and milk and grandma and grandpa. We got her teeth brushed, face washed and changed into her Rudolph pyjamas all without her feet touching the floor.

Bella said I spoiled her. I said I just liked carrying her while I still could.

She was getting big so fast, too fast, as far as I was concerned. I wished there was a way to slow things down, freeze time at certain points and just live _there_ for a while. Like in the moment when Chloe first laughed or said "Dada" or the times when I came home to find her and Bella both half-asleep on the couch with a Disney movie playing. The happiness and the peace were a gift and Bella and I both knew it.

Chloe's birth had been so terrifying, it seemed like a miracle that she and Bella were completely fine, strong and healthy again. That day left its scars though.

Bella, unbelievably to me, was fine physically and from time to time would bring up the idea of another baby. I don't know if she really didn't remember how scary the emergency caesarean had been or if it was maybe worse for me somehow, not because I had to go through it, but because I'd had to _watch_ her go through it. And wait to hear if she was going to be okay. And feel guilty because I forgot, in my terror, about the baby. It was almost three years ago but I still woke in a sweat every once in a while. My dad, in a rare case of very bad bedside manner, had let slip just how close I'd come to losing them both. Apparently, it had been a matter of minutes.

720 seconds.

They _were_ both a miracle and I never took them for granted.

That didn't mean I didn't think about another baby too, a sister or brother for Chloe. Another little bundle to watch grow and change and learn. Yeah, I thought about it but I wouldn't ask Bella to go through that again.

Bella came up as I was tucking in Chloe, and watched from the doorway as I kissed our little girl's forehead. Chloe was warm with fatigue – her eyes were droopy - and smelled like baby shampoo and the cookies she'd "taste tested" for Santa. Bella crossed and kissed her too. They whispered to each other, they always did at bedtime, their matching dark heads close together for a few minutes. Bella had told me she was whispering what Chloe should dream about, setting her up for good dreams. I liked the idea and asked Bella to whisper stuff to me at bedtime too but it didn't have anywhere near the same effect.

We told our baby girl goodnight, I flipped the light switch and Bella and I went downstairs.

The living room was ridiculous, we both knew it. It looked like a Hallmark store had thrown up and then real elves from the North Pole had come in and made the best of it. The tree was too big, we'd had to actually move the furniture to accommodate it, and the presents were piled in a deep semi-circle underneath. It wasn't even all of them; we were waiting for Chloe to go to sleep before putting out the gifts from Santa. We sat close together on the couch, listening to old Christmas standards and, since we didn't have a fireplace, watching the TV "Yule log" channel. This was our tradition.

"You know you went way overboard," Bella said, eyeing the deep pile of gifts under the tree.

I drank the milk that Chloe had left out for the big guy. "I don't know what you're talking about." I looked anywhere _but_ the tree. Bella laughed quietly and snuggled into me. "You know lots of them are for you, right?" Bella snorted. Even cut by half, there were enough toys to supply a small daycare. I was a bit embarrassed to be honest, I didn't mean to buy so much and I really didn't want to spoil Chloe. I just wanted to give her everything and one crazy day at the mall I had made a pretty good go at it. "And you didn't exactly tell me to return anything!" I tried to shift the blame.

"Hey, you saved me shopping. I'd rather you lose your mind and buy out Toys R Us than have to deal with those crowds," Bella said. That was her way of saying she knew how I felt. I passed her a cookie and took one for myself. I liked being Santa, I actually felt pretty jolly. I wondered if Bella would like to play Mrs Claus a little later.

The Yule log crackled on the TV and the CD changed to A Charlie Brown Christmas. This was one of those moments, when you want to freeze time, stay a while and forget everything else. Bella sighed, she was happy too. Her hand went absently to her stomach and there was something familiar about the gesture. "I don't know though. I think next year I'll let you do the shopping again." She was doing that thing where she drops hints about something but it was late and I was a bit fuzzy.

I kissed her hair and she looked up. Her eyes were all shiny, excited and maybe a little worried. But mostly excited.

"Do you want your present now?" she asked. I nodded, looking at her and thinking she was beautiful, all glowing and pink. And then I knew what she was going to say and I realized in that instant how much I had hoped for it. Even if I couldn't admit it to myself.

"Edward, we're going to have another baby."

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><p><em>Prompt to post: I'd already had these two in my head so chanting "don't get carried away" took me right to Christmas shopping and shock meant another baby. Boom. Now let's get back to Promo Rob! lolololololol<em>


	22. WitFit Oct 29 Bump

WitFit Oct 29

Word Prompt: Bump

A single word meant to inspire immediate thought. Write what your imagination dictates.

_Same character as Rush, Lily, who had recently been divorced and bought little farm. Unbeta'd and written kind of free flow, no real plot here, just a moment with the character. _

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><p>You can't get much creepier than being alone on a run-down farm in the middle of the night. The creaks of old floor boards, the shadows of mysterious shapes and the thud and rustle of small branches against the windows. Knowing that you're so far from another person that a scream would be useless; the wind would swallow it up before the sound could reach anyone.<p>

Lily had been lying in her bed for hours, growing increasingly upset with a wicked combination of fear and self-pity. Everyone had told her not to buy this place.

"_It's too much for you, sweetie. How are you going to keep up with everything?"_

"_It's so far out of the city. It's almost like you're trying to make it difficult for me to see Luke and Kyle..."_

"_You don't know anything about farms! What are you thinking? It seems like running away to me."_

She _had_ been running away... but she did love the place. It had seemed like a win/win when she was swept up by the excitement of it all. A week hadn't been enough time for Lily to make the place feel like a home though and Luke and Kyle were having their weekend with their father. Without the noise of two boys, the house had lost much of its charm. Lily couldn't see the possibilities at the moment - all she could see was a bad decision and the embarrassment of having to backtrack. The mortification if she failed in her first attempt at taking care of herself. She blushed even though no one could see her.

Lily hated being wrong. She sat up in her bed and wrapped her arms around her knees and thought.

The odds of actually being in danger were ridiculously low. Lower than being alone in the city if she was honest with herself. She had the creeps, it happened, but she was stronger than this. She huffed out a great, gusty breath, threw back the covers and stood on the cool, wooden floor. "There is nothing to be afraid of," she said, aloud, feeling absurd. Her voice was steady though and she felt a little reassured. She headed to the kitchen, turning on every light along the way and put on the kettle. "This is my home," she said. Lily looked around at the tiny kitchen. It wasn't the poor house's fault that she was wimp. It was 2 a.m. and she just wasn't used to being so completely alone.

Lily looked out the window while she waited for the water to boil. The moon was close to full and gleamed off the panes of the greenhouse, but it was the great barn that drew her eye. The hulking shape of it should have been frightening to Lily in her current mood. Her imagination should have transformed it into some sort of beast, or a sinister lair for an awaiting monster. Instead, Lily wanted to be in the barn, she thought she'd feel better there, surrounded by the reason for this crazy move to the country. She jumped when the kettle whistled, prepared her tea while hyping herself up to walk through the scary dark night to her refuge.

It was warm, she didn't need a jacket over her yoga pants and tank top. She opened the back door and shivered anyway; fear was a cold slinking thing, wiggling down her spine and making her hair stand on end. There was light enough from the moon and there was electric light in the barn. Lily just needed to walk. She went down the steps slowly, her body reluctant to do what her mind was telling it. Lily was fighting instincts that had evolved over millennia – to run, to hide, to freeze. "This is my home," she said, and walked on over the damp grass, along the path the moon was lighting from house to barn.

It seemed calmer outside than inside the house, the gentle susurrus of the leaves in the trees a natural sound, familiar and comforting. The space was wide open, nothing moved to startle Lily and the barn seemed to call her, pull her toward it. The fear that had so gripped her in the house was like a cloak dragging behind her, the farther she moved the longer it stretched. Lily kept walking, fear tugging her back to the house, the barn calling her, offering shelter from her irrational panic. She reached the barn and opened the door, cringing at the loud screech, mentally adding the chore of greasing those hinges to her endless list.

Lily reached round the side of the wall and flipped the light switch, illuminating the front quarter of the barn. She stepped over the threshold and felt the weight of the cloak drop from her shoulders; it couldn't reach her in here. She took a deep breath and laughed at herself... a grown woman, afraid of her own house. Afraid of the dark. She shrugged it off like a bad memory. Lily was getting good at that.

She took a sip of her tea and put it down on a nearby crate, looking around and wondering where to start tonight. Lily had spent hours each day tackling the piles in the barn but barely made a dent. She thought maybe the piles were a living thing, multiplying while she slept. Lily blinked her eyes at that strange thought and realized how tired she was.

The boys had already camped in the loft. Lily could see the nest of blankets and pillows and suddenly wanted more than anything to just sleep. She knew she'd be able to sleep there in the barn and abandoned her tea, climbing the ladder and curling up on the deep pile of bedding. The barn creaked too, just like the house, but it was different... softer, a lulling. Lily's eyes were heavy – stress, fatigue, the late hour caught up – and so surrounded by the slight sweet smell of her little boys and the peaceful comfort of her barn, she fell asleep.

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><p><em>Prompt to post: I'll be honest. First, immediate thought when I read "bump" was something else altogether. I think we all know where I went first. And I wrote it but I'm not posting it because it's going to be part of another story. So I thought for Halloween I'd do a little, spooky "things that go bump in the night". This character and setting are speaking to me. Very exciting. This is Saturday's prompt, crazy weekend so it's late. I take challenges seriously. LOL One more prompt in Oct! It will probably be late too. <em>


	23. WitFit Oct 31 Spooky

WitFit Oct 31

Word Prompt: Spooky

Dialogue Flex: "Trick or treat?" he asked.

Using the provided snippet of dialogue, explore what comes to mind, be it a scene, a thought, or something else.

I don't own Twilight.

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><p><em>Knock knock knock knock knock <em>

I don't know why he knocks, he has a key and I've begged him to use it. I want him to just walk in. I want him to find me in bed.

Sometimes it's weeks between his visits and I'm aching by the time I see him. It's been weeks this time. I was starting to worry.

I open the door and he's leaning on the door jamb, eyes half-open, maybe a little drunker than usual, but upright.

He's knocked on the right door at least.

"Schrick or sheet?" he slurs. Goddamn, I hope he didn't drive. Of course, he wouldn't, he doesn't. But he's worse than I thought.

"C'mere baby," I croon to him. He comes to me because he feels safe here. He slumps forward and I stagger under his weight. "Almost there, stay on your feet soldier. C'mon... let's get you to bed." Looks like I'll be aching for a little while longer. At least until morning. Usually, no matter how drunk he is the night before, he wakes up like an animal. I can wait. He's so worth it.

He's like a dead weight across my shoulders and I stumble hard against the wall. I cry out as he slips away, I can't, I can't do it, I can't catch him, he's too heavy and he slides out of my arms and falls into my apartment.

I push the door closed and look at him. My poor baby. Why does he do this to himself?

He's in a heap on the floor, his hair a cheerful, ironic mess. He's awfully still.

Oh God. Is he breathing?

I drop down and kneel beside him. I grab his shoulder.

"Edward! Edward? Open your eyes!" I shake him, I panic. Should I call 911? "Edward!" He groans and rolls on to his back. I'm so relieved I could cry. He can't do this to me anymore. I can't stand it anymore.

I reach forward to push the hair back from his face. Jesus, he's cold. I cuddle into his neck, try to share my warmth with him. I kiss him below his ear, I hate seeing him like this. I see a white line, dots, a scar? I've never noticed that scar before. His hand grabs my wrist, lightening quick, he flips me to my back in a motion so fast I feel like I'm still rolling.

He's on top of me and my body reacts the way it always does but my mind is screaming. He looks at me with blood red, sober eyes. I want to scream but I can't.

"I'm not Edward. Not anymore."

He smiles and I whimper.

Fin.

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><p><em>I'm cackling right now. Lit'rally cackling. It's Halloween! I said "Fin" that's my favourite. Thank you Tink for encouraging me to do this. It's been life altering, for real. Thank you to those who have been reading along and reviewing. So much fun.<em>


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